Look What you Have Done, Showing Me the Sun
by seaecho
Summary: Davy is feeling very restless lately, and he has a feeling he knows why. Peter might have something to do with it... Slash warning, some language, sexual situations. Reviews encouraged and appreciated!
1. Chapter 1

_What's gotten into me? _Davy shifted and squirmed around, ill at ease. What in hell was he going to do with these uncomfortable, foreign feelings he'd been fighting?

At first it had horrified him. But now he was just tired of living with it. Tired of waiting for it to fade, weary of its constant presence hanging over his head. Evidently, it was here to stay.

Davy sat at the park bench, the early summer sun agreeably warming him clear down to his bones. He was watching the other three band members kicking a soccer ball around. They'd made him take a time-out, as he was quicker and more athletic than the rest of them, and combined with being naturally competitive, tended to dominate the ball.

He studied them all. Mike, tall, dark, with big sideburns, almost painfully stick thin, yet showing real promise for the day when he would finally fill out. Quiet, reserved most of the time, yet very witty with a sarcastic, dry sense of humor. A practical guy and the go-to guy if you had a problem. Mike kept you grounded.

Micky, having a decent looking body, hair that just couldn't be completely tamed, and although he was still no match for Davy, faster on his feet than Mike. Micky was restless and high energy. He just vibrated with unbridled vigor. Fun loving often to the point of being so silly he was hard to control. You always had fun when you were with Micky, provided you were in the mood for his antics. Both guys taller than average. Both pleasant looking, attractive guys, depending on your taste. But they were _just guys. _

_And then there was Peter. _ Peter was in a category all by himself. At least that's how Davy saw it. An Adonis. In Davy's eyes, that just what he was. That body had _nothing _wrong with it. Peter defined the sun. From the blonde hair with natural highlights caused by so much time outdoors, that shimmered like a mirror, along with its easy way of flowing around, often falling into his eyes-and his leanly muscled arms, flat stomach, sexy chest, large hands with long fingers, to his nicely shaped thighs-all of it. Not to mention his eyes. An ever-changing hazel that went from amber to brown, and sometimes even to a hint of green with the changing light and Peter's moods. He was even the perfect height-5 foot ten. The total package.

Davy had spent countless hours studying Peter in all his many environments. He couldn't help it after all-they lived together. At work, at play, when sleeping. Davy's opinion never changed. Peter was perfect. And not only in looks. Peter's temperament was pristine. Forever sanguine, cheerful, upbeat and ready for any adventure you might suggest. His emotions ran high, his sensitivity almost matching a female's delicate sensibilities. That last trait was his only drawback. And even _that _wasn't really a drawback, because it added a rare, gentle element.

And this sensitivity was one of the biggest things that set him apart from most men. His intuition and tenderness caused just about everyone he met to love him. If not love him, then to at least admire and covet his innocent nature, his sincerity. Peter found it impossible _not_ to be honest and open. In truth, he really didn't know how. Perhaps it had never occurred to him to be less than forthright in everything, except when it came to hurting someone's feelings, and then he shifted smoothly into his kindness mode.

When had all this begun? Davy couldn't put a timetable on it. Things had evolved so slowly that Davy had been mostly unaware of it until recently. The last couple of months, he guessed. Before that, he'd thought (or maybe fooled himself into thinking) that he simply admired Peter. Besides, there was a _lot_ to admire. His rare, extensive musical ability, his patience, his understanding, his intelligence, and his good looks -put them all together and stir well and you have perfection. There that word was again-_perfection. _

Davy was sick to death of trying to analyze why he felt so strongly about Peter. He'd seen plenty of good looking guys in his life, but one more thing... none of them had Peter's heart.

Something had been simmering under the surface for much longer than a few months, if Davy were to be frank with himself. An eerie foreshadow had been looming ...keeping Davy aware and snugly in its clutches.

Davy was slowly and painfully realizing things -against his will. He didn't _want_ to think about it. But when something or someone occupies a big chunk of your free time with visions of beauty and sweetness, it isn't easy to ignore. And that happened to sum Peter up-beauty and sweetness...and _heart._

He'd discovered that to push away, pull away or walk away (metaphorically) didn't last long. New thoughts always intruded. All of the same flavor. And it all came down to the same thing in the end-_Forbidden._

That night Davy went to bed around eleven. Peter had gone to bed maybe half an hour before. A subtle summer breeze was whispering through the open window, the curtain fluttering gently as Davy passed by Peter's bed.

Peter's warm, masculine scent drifted gently up to Davy's nostrils and it affected him like a punch in the gut, making him weak in the knees. He edged by Peter's bed much more closely than was necessary, even brushing against it unintentionally with his shin. He felt intoxicated. _Bloody hell,_ but Peter was sexy. Even down to his smell.

Davy loved girls. Had since he was very young. They were so _different _from boys. They despised dirt, they were squeamish about spiders, they screamed when the slightest bit spooked, they enjoyed dressing up and trying on shoes, they loved experimenting with make-up. They spoke a whole different language, one example being they used the word "cute" a lot, and boys almost never did. They hated violence of any kind, and dreamed of romance. They were soft and sweet.

Davy loved all this about girls. He loved spending time with them. He loved kissing them too. He loved making love to them. He loved holding them and whispering into their ears, making them giggle. He knew all the tricks. Things of that nature had come to him easily. He'd picked it right up-just what to say to a girl, and how to act like a gentleman. The fact that girls gravitated to him because of his looks boosted his confidence even more.

But what befuddled him was when he was in Peter's vicinity, all this was forgotten. Peter, for some odd reason, was beginning to bewitch him. And the awareness ate at him. Sometimes his insides felt shredded from all the stewing about it. Davy... the guy who was always known as the "ladies man" was enchanted with a golden Adonis. And no one but he knew about it.

Davy was becoming more disturbed and annoyed by these feelings by the day. Even frightened. It wasn't supposed to be like this, was it? In all his twenty-one years he'd never felt this type of attraction toward another guy. And worse, there wasn't one person he could talk to about it. He felt completely drained by it.

Peter, except for his sensitivity, was so unlike a girl, it wasn't even funny. His voice was low-low enough that he sang bass. He had a hairy chest, he was distinctly masculine. He had no fear at all of spiders. He even picked them up without a second thought. He loved action movies, sports and fast cars just like any other guy. He drank beer just like the other three. In most ways he was exactly like the other band members, aside from the unusual sensitivity, and, yes, he did occasionally utter the word "cute." But, hey, everyone has little quirks.

So...why in the world would Davy be attracted to him?

Pure-nothing and no one was pure anymore, aside from children and animals. But Peter was an exception. Was that what was attracting Davy? No... not in and of itself. It was the combination of all Peter's traits that must be breaking down Davy's resistance.

Peter being fresh, and seemingly unmarked as yet by the cold reality of life fascinated Davy. How it was possible, Davy didn't know, but Peter seemed to skip through life without a care. He _did _cry at sad movies, he _did_ like to hug Davy when he was happy about something, and he _did_ snuggle a bit too much on the couch when watching a movie, but otherwise, Peter could be just another guy on the street that Davy wouldn't look twice at.

Then there was Peter's _attitude _toward life that was so refreshing, reflected Davy. He put others before himself without exception. He had _empathy _as well as compassion. And Davy simply found that attractive.

But even all of that wasn't the whole story. The sexual component was what bothered Davy the most. Guys weren't supposed to find other guys sexy. But too often Davy would find his eyes wandering to various parts of Peter's body and just marveling...wondering what it would be like to touch him. Other than a hug or a slight snuggle, that is. And Peter's body was so completely different from a girl's body. So no wonder none of this made a lick of sense to Davy.

Then there was the dimple that was just devastating. When Peter smiled shyly about something, Davy felt a strange pull in his chest. Something he couldn't put a name to.

Well, one thing was for certain. Davy's brain was sore from all the scrutinizing. He didn't wanna think about it any more. He just wanted to relax and watch the guys and let the sun keep warming his insides. The same sun that kept glinting off Peter's glorious blonde hair...

Yeah, Peter reminded him of the sun, radiating his golden warmth on everything in his path.

Davy wanted to run and hide. Hide from Peter. He wanted to be the way he used to be. He wanted to be like the other three-looking at girls, flirting with them and dating them. Davy had been the greatest lover of the four of them. He had a reputation to uphold not only among the other band members, but also friends and family. He had always been the proverbial Romeo of the group.

Girls threw themselves at him, when the telephone would ring, everyone first assumed it would be for Davy. Girls would approach him in nightclubs and ask him to dance almost as often as he asked them. They got carried away too. On the dance floor they'd try to unbutton his shirt, rub up against him, suggest they go outside for some "fresh air" which was only a euphemism for kissing. Along the way, they would play games. The age old games that males and females played, whether animal or human. He saw right through them, knew all their tricks. It got old-and not a bit challenging. He was, in a word, weary of girls.

Peter, on the other hand, was uncomplicated. Even though he'd never even hinted at being attracted to Davy, at least Davy knew Peter was up front. He wasn't fickle like those girls were. With Peter, you knew where you stood. He was refreshing in his innocent harmlessness. And Davy respected him for his honest nature.

Right now, and often enough lately, Davy almost felt like an eunuch. As far as girls went, that is. But with Peter, that inner fire seemed to blaze anew and hot, even after girls had stomped it out with their silliness and obvious overtures. A smoldering ember was all it took for Peter to start a wildfire in Davy again. And this was without even doing a thing but to be himself.

It wasn't natural, and it wasn't right. Those words kept repeating themselves in Davy's brain. He guessed he'd have to talk to Peter sometime soon. But what in holy hell would he say? This was some heavy stuff. _I want you? Let me kiss you, hold you, see if this is what I truly want? See if you want me too? Get it out of my system so I can go on with my life?_

"David?"

Davy started. Peter was awake.

"Hey, Pete. Thought you were asleep."

"Something hit my bed and woke me up."

"Sorry 'bout that. I cut it too close on my way by." Sounded lame, but it was true. Cut it too close because he'd been trying to get as close to Peter as possible.

"Is something bothering you?" asked Peter.

Davy unconsciously stiffened. "Why do you ask that?"

"You were quiet at the park today. And every time I looked over there, you were staring at me."

"Oh...um...I guess I was just kind of spacing out."

"I got the feeling that you wanted to talk to me about something."

Davy cleared his throat and fidgeted as he sat down on the edge of his bed.

"Well, actually... I do." Davy felt light headed. There-he'd said it. Now he'd have to follow up on it.

He gulped. Peter waited. A couple of minutes must have passed. Peter continued to watch Davy carefully. Davy was uncharacteristically tense. Peter picked up on it instantly. The vibrations were so strong it almost made his teeth rattle.

"Um... I know someone who I think I have feelings for..." Davy trailed off, not knowing how to complete the thought. Peter waited, and when Davy said nothing further, he got an uneasy feeling that Davy was experiencing a lot of angst. It lingered in the air, thick enough to cut with a knife.

"Well, you've been in that situation before, and you always just start flirting with the girl. You've done it so many times, I don't see why this time is a problem."

Well, of course Peter thought Davy was talking about a girl. Never in a million lifetimes would he suspect Davy was attracted to _him._

"Its not that easy..."

"Oh... I see... this girl is really special, then?"

"Uh, yeah. Its hard to talk to this ...girl."

"Why? You've always been able to strike up a conversation with girls. I've seen you talk about things I'd never think of, like the weather, or breeds of dogs, or what color to paint a house, or..."

"Peter, I get that. But this time... well... the circumstances are a bit different." _A bit different? Understatement of the century!_ thought Davy.

"You can't come up with anything to talk about?" Peter was incredulous. He'd never seen Davy fail to jump on a chance to make a move on a pretty girl. And one of his strategies was to find something he had in common with the girl. From there, things usually flowed smoothly.

_Davy was smooth, period_, thought Peter. Smooth as a river rock. He'd always admired Davy for the way he charmed the women. Even envied him. He was so professional and meticulate about romance. He had it down to a science. Peter had never seen Davy show discomfort in that area. _Boy, he's really hung up on this one!_

"David, you've coached me in the past. The least I can do is return the favor."

Davy smiled slightly to himself. Yeah, right, he thought. Davy remembered all the times Peter had sought his advice on how to approach a girl. And how frustrated Davy had been at times when Peter would lose his nerve at the last second. He'd open his mouth to say something, and just freeze up. Well, now Davy had sympathy for Peter, because that's just how _he_ felt right now.

Ironic, wasn't it? Peter wanted to help him out, yet he was the _one_ person who couldn't. Davy was going to have to handle this alone. And that meant facing Peter and telling him...

"Peter, this... girl... is different. Its delicate."

"You're in love with her?"

"Well, no...not exactly. I just don't have the courage to tell her... I feel something for her."

"I don't understand, David. Always before you just started talking, and things just _happened."_

Davy realized he was going to get nowhere. Peter couldn't be expected to understand how this was different from all the other times. Not unless he knew it was _him_ that Davy was referring to. And he just could not bring himself to tell Peter he was lusting after him, or _whatever_ it was he was feeling.

"Pete, I just can't talk about it with you. Its just too personal."

The hurt sliced through Peter like a cold, hard blade of steel. He and Davy were close friends, and had been for quite a while. They'd been through adventures as well as some trying times together. Lean times when they were struggling to find work. Close times when they had shared laughs and all sorts of fun together as well as Mike and Micky. He and Davy shared a bedroom, so they were closer to each other than they were to the others, and knew practically everything about each other, down to toothpaste brands. They'd been there to support each other when things went wrong, whether it was romance or music.

He'd thought Davy trusted him. And now Davy was turning away from him. Not accepting his help, when Davy had helped him out more times than he could count. Why wouldn't Davy confide in him? Peter had poured his heart out to Davy on all too many occasions. Didn't Davy trust him or respect his advice enough to ask for it?

Peter wasn't as savvy with girls as Davy. That much was a given. But all the times Peter had opened himself up enough to let Davy guide him...it meant a lot to him, and he wanted to give something back.

Davy got into bed. "Night, Pete," he mumbled.

Peter just stared into space. He was sure Davy had no idea how badly he'd just hurt him...


	2. Chapter 2

Peter was more depressed than he'd ever been. Not that that was saying much, as Peter was almost never depressed. He wasn't wired for it. Nonetheless, he was feeling blue, and that was not normal for him. But he had a very good reason. Davy was avoiding him, and he knew damn well it wasn't his imagination.

What had he done? Nothing that he could remember. Ever since Davy had brought up being hung up on someone, he had been acting strangely, and spooking like a newborn fawn every time Peter entered a room.

Tonight Davy had a girl over. Nothing unusual about that, except Davy was being a touch-me-not with her, something that was so rare that none of the Monkees had ever witnessed it before.

Davy was making a gargantuan effort, that much he had to be credited with. He was trying so agonizingly hard to be affectionate with Paula. But it wasn't working. Oh, Paula was willing enough, and certainly beautiful enough; but Davy's heart wasn't in it, and neither was his libido. But libido aside, he couldn't even hold her hand, much less do anything else. He just plain didn't want to. His feelings were totally flat. And although he knew Peter would, as always, gladly let him have privacy in their bedroom, Davy had no desire to kiss her on the couch, let alone take her to the bedroom.

For the dozenth time, he attempted to lean over and kiss her lightly, in preparation for "warming her up," but he felt mildly repelled once again. Almost _moderately_ repelled. She looked at him longingly with those big doe eyes of hers, fluttered her eyelashes, crossed and recrossed her legs (something that had captivated Davy last time they'd been together) and sighed delicately. But Davy was like stone, and there was no breaking him out of his indifference.

Davy finally suggested he take her home. He wanted to believe he was just feeling out of sorts, but if that were the case, why did Peter keep popping into his mind? Hell, he and Paula were on the couch and Peter was in the kitchen, not even conversing with them. Yet Davy found himself listening for Peter's low voice as the other three stood around bullshitting.

As Davy and Paula went out the door, Davy apologizing extensively to her for a bum evening and complaining of a stomachache, Peter and the others looked at each other knowingly. Davy didn't have a stomachache-they knew that for sure. He'd eaten dinner with gusto and no complaints, and had been in a different state of mind until he'd decided he _should_ go get Paula.

Since when did Davy say he _should _date a girl, or bring one over? He'd always been so eager for female companionship that _want_ would be the far more appropriate word. He'd said it like it was more of a duty than a pleasure. Almost as if it were an obligation. Totally un-Davy-like.

Micky shook his head. "Wassa matter with that boy?" he said in one of his silly voices.

"If I didn't know better, I'd almost think he's pining over something or someone," was Mike's input.

"Well, the other night he mentioned having feelings for someone but not knowing how to tell them. I thought maybe it was Paula, but now I don't think so. Ooops! Maybe he didn't want me to mention that to you guys," Peter stopped talking abruptly.

Micky shrugged his shoulders. "We won't say anything Pete, you know that. Maybe that explains his behavior though... maybe he was trying to 'make do' with Paula when its really some other girl he's got the hots for. You know how that goes-we've all been there."

"But why would David, of all people, settle for less than what he wants?" Mike was trying aloud to figure this puzzle out. "Most girls don't have to be encouraged to go out with Davy. If anything, they have to be held off. I wonder why he's having trouble with this one particular one?"

"I don't know, but I'll gladly take any leftovers," said Micky. "If he doesnt want Paula, I wouldn't kick her outta _my_ bed."

They all chuckled. It was true. Davy never had trouble with females. The only kind of trouble he ever had was too many of them hanging around him and on him. He could hardly walk out the door without some girl hitting on him while he was on the beach, or, really, anywhere he went. He was a virtual girl magnet. It seemed that when he was out and about, he unintentionally set off some kind of silent mating call. So this mystery girl was exactly that... a mystery.

Peter loved a mystery, and he intended to solve this one. When Davy got home and headed up the stairs, Peter was on his tail like a bloodhound. Peter squeezed himself through the door much like a cat right behind Davy before Davy could close it. That earned Peter a murderous glare.

"Why are you a grump?"

Normally Davy would have smiled, but his mood had deteriorated even further than before he'd taken Paula home.

"I'm not."

"Yes you are. You've been pissy ever since you told me there's a girl you're hung up on. She must be outta site to have this effect on you. Why in hell don't you just _talk_ to her? You know how to do it. If anyone does, its you."

"Don't start this again, Pete. Get your ass outta here for a while so I can be alone." Davy practically shoved him out the door, closing it firmly behind him.

Peter was no longer hurt-he was angry. It took a lot to get Peter's hackles up, but this was a big deal. Davy had always talked things over with him, took his input to heart, and let him in on just about everything important that was happening in his life. It was so out of character for Davy to shut him out that the more Peter thought about it, the more indignant he got.

Just as Peter was deciding to barge back into the bedroom, Davy opened the door and physically pulled Peter back in by the shirt collar. Peter, taken aback for an instant, was immediately relieved to see that Davy _was_, after all, apparently going to discuss it with him.

"How...do I tell this... person how I feel, Pete?" Agitated is how Peter would have described Davy, who was busy chewing at his lower lip, fiddling nervously with his love beads.

"Like I said before, do what you've always done. Start talking, and go from there. You're a ladies' man. I've seen you do it at least a hundred times."

"But this time its different."

"In what way?"

"I talk to this person a lot already... so that won't make any difference. I have to... _tell_ this person."

Peter wasn't sure he was clear on what Davy was saying. "So talking isn't helping?"

"No."

"I've never seen it fail yet."

"Well, it has this time."

This was a puzzler alright. The girl wasn't responding? How could that be possible? What was wrong with her? Was she blind? Couldn't she see what all the other girls saw? How sincere, charming, considerate, generous, gentle and romantic Davy was? Not to mention what caught all the girls' attention in the first place-his looks. Was she crazy or something? Peter couldn't figure it out.

"Maybe you're not her type?" Although Peter couldn't imagine that.

"That could very well be it." Davy was being as honest as he could with Peter, without tellling him the truth right out. Peter would _never_ understand Davy's feelings. So he knew he couldn't tell him. Peter would have a cow if he knew _he_ were the object of Davy's affections. So telling him just wasn't an option. That, in turn, took him right back to where he'd started-with his hands tied.

"Oh, forget it." Davy climbed into bed.

"You're not gonna run and hide from this anymore!" Peter's voice raised slightly. "Hell, I'll _help_ you win this girl over! I can't stand seeing you this way."

Davy laughed-it just came out without his permission. Peter was just too damn benevolent.

"How are you gonna help, Pete?"

"I don't know, but I'll think of something."

"Okay, you sleep on it. I think that's what I'm gonna do right now." Davy's head disappeared under his covers, effectively shutting Peter out... for now. Peter wasn't about to let things stay that way though.

Was Davy losing all interest in girls? Even thinking about it threw him into despair. He was young, not even married yet! But the way he'd reacted to Paula-or rather, _not _reacted to Paula told him something was really, seriously wrong. He couldn't remember one single time in the last eight years, when girls had first sparked an interest in him, that he'd felt anything close to this. This _indifference. _

For someone who was used to falling in love on a frequent basis, this was more than unsettling. It was devastating. What was even more worrisome though, was that every time he saw Peter or dared to think about him, his gut clenched tight with desire. Was he becoming a deviant?

Davy made a decision. It was one or the other-he had to find out, or cross over into insanity. All his waking hours were filled with torment. He had to find out why he had no feelings for girls, and... the other part was so hard to even _think_ about, but he had to explore why he was feeling attracted to Peter.

After they went to bed the next night, Davy's heart was pounding like a galloping horse's hooves on asphalt. His throat felt tight, like he couldn't draw a complete breath. His scalp even felt tight and sore. The back of his neck ached. The glass of water he'd brought upstairs and sipped on wasn't helping his parched mouth at all.

He and Peter sat on their respective beds in their pajamas, and Davy suddenly spewed out his thoughts before he had a chance to chicken out.

"Paula didn't make me feel a thing last night."

"She didn't? What do you mean exactly?"

"Pete, she didn't turn me on! I didn't even want to kiss her!" Davy's face had turned pale and that _never _happened. Red flags were flying. Peter was more than a little worried.

"Are you sick?" He wasn't being sarcastic, he was genuinely concerned about Davy. Davy would _have _to be sick to not desire a girl! Maybe Davy felt this way because he was coming down with a virus...

"No...I feel fine. I just have no desire."

"What about another girl? Maybe its just Paula who doesn't turn you on. What about the one you said you can't talk to about your feelings? She's probably the reason you don't desire Paula."

Oh, if Peter only knew... Davy tilted his head in thought. "You know... you might have something there. Maybe its just Paula!"

For a moment, Davy was hopeful. Another girl might be just the ticket. But then... Davy couldn't tell Peter about the most disturbing part of this whole thing. That _Peter_ was turning him on. And he didn't even have to be sitting next to him like he did with girls. All he had to do was _think_ about Peter. The most shocking part of it though was that he could even picture _kissing _Peter!

Oh damn! There... he'd done it. Allowed himself to think about it openly. It was true-he was flabbergasted. He would have no trouble at all kissing Peter. Thinking of doing something, and actually _doing _it were two different things, and he realized that. But the difference with Peter was, the thought of kissing him excited Davy. The thought of kissing a girl _didn't. _ There- he'd finally admitted it to himself. Now he found himself craving it. What would it be like? Why in the world would kissing a man be more appealing to him than kissing a woman?

"Can I tell you something... confidentially?" Davy knew he was sticking his neck out, but he had to test the waters-get Peter's reaction. _Something _had to be done about this. And he had to do it while he still had the courage.

"Sure." Peter sounded so innocent. Little did he know what he was in for...

"I _am_ attracted to someone, like I told you. But I didn't... tell you the whole truth."

"I know you're attracted to someone. Obviously its not Paula though. So... who is it?"

"Its not a girl," There, he'd said it out loud. Barely above a whisper, but he'd said it.

If only Davy could have somehow recorded Peter's expression. Dumbfounded was the term that came to mind first. Peter had that bewildered, disbelieving look he got at any really shocking news. His jaw even dropped a bit. Davy had the urge to close Peter's mouth with his hand, like Mike had done on occasion. Davy had only seen that expression on Peter a couple of times before. That's how rare it was.

Davy waited for Peter to regain his composure. He had doubts Peter would be _able _to regain it. A bit of time went by- Davy couldn't be sure how much time because of the blood swooshing loudly in his ears. Time was irrelevant right now. He felt remorse as he watched Peter briefly hold his head in his hands. Should he have blurted it out like that? Peter's reaction would make all the difference with Davy's decision on whether he should totally spill the beans or not.

"_Not a girl_?" Peter's voice, now recovered, sounded raspy, rough, grating. He started to cough, and Davy offered him a drink of his water. Then he very nearly spit the water all over Davy. As it was, some landed on the carpet between their beds. Davy reached down and dabbed it up with a tissue from the box on the nightstand.

Peter attempted to talk again. "_What do you mean, not a girl_?" His voice now sounded practically strangled.

"Well, Pete. There are only two genders." Davy tried to smile but it came out looking more like a painful grimace.

"You're interested in a _guy_?" Peter started to laugh then. It sounded almost hysterical, on the edge of panic. The unusual tone was how Davy knew Peter wasn't laughing _at him. _ Peter was frightened. And, like some people do when nervous or uncomfortable, he laughed-not knowing what else to do. But a very unnatural laugh, it was. And wouldn't he himself be frightened to death if Peter had confided something similar to him? Of course he would! He'd be freaking out.

"My God! Who is it?" Peter was starting to sound desperately upset. Davy understood why. Peter cared a lot about his friend, and didn't want Davy to suffer from an _affliction_ like this.

"I can't tell you, Peter...I'm just not ready. But please... don't tell anyone."

"You know you don't even... have to ask that."

It was true. Davy knew he could trust Peter with his secret.

It was a numb Peter who got into bed a little while later. Davy almost felt sorry for him. He looked so confused. And why shouldn't he? Davy, all of a sudden was someone Peter didn't even know anymore.

By the next weekend, Davy decided to invite another girl over to the pad. He was determined to get some answers. Might as well give it one last mighty try. If Paula didn't do it for him, maybe Audrey would. If anyone could do it, it would be Audrey. Audrey had _always_ turned him on. Davy already strongly suspected it wouldn't make any difference, as he wasn't gawking at girls on the beach anymore like he used to, but he had to at least try.

His whole world seemed to be changing, as Peter continued to invade his thoughts when he least expected it. He concentrated on not staring at Peter when Peter bent over in those tight gray band pants, or when Peter got dressed in the morning. That naked chest was almost too much for Davy to bear. Even watching Peter shave was disturbingly exciting.

Sitting and talking music in the evening like they did before bed, Davy had to catch his eyes before they gravitated over to Peter's face. He'd look at him briefly because he had to-otherwise Peter would get suspicious. But he didn't let his eyes dwell on things like Peter's dimple, his puppy-dog eyes, his sexy mole, or his lustrous hair. Sometimes just Peter's voice alone was enough to make Davy draw in a sharp breath.

On occasion, the guys liked to tickle Davy. They knew how ticklish he was, and took advantage of it. A few hours before Davy was going to bring Audrey over, Micky and Mike tackled him on the living room floor. Davy was fun to tickle, and a challenge, as he put up a good fight. He was very strong for his size, so it took both Micky and Mike to hold him down to accomplish it.

Peter didn't join in this time. He stood by the sidelines, watching and feeling quite a bit of empathy for Davy. "Hey guys, let him up! That's enough!" he said. But the others continued with their torture. Two against one, and they were both bigger than Davy.

Peter liked tickling Davy too, but he didn't like the "ganging up" part. He didn't feel it was fair, even though Davy was a good sport about it, and really did sometimes deserve it, as he could be quite a cocky little thing. Sassy, that's what Davy was. But in a charming way. Right now though, he didn't deserve this nonstop tickling, Peter knew that much. He was already on edge about Audrey coming over.

Peter, being a couple inches shorter than either Micky or Mike, nevertheless had a bit more bulk on him than they did. Next to Davy, he was the most athletic one. So he first pulled Micky off, then tackled Mike. He deterred them just long enough to allow Davy time to sprint up the stairs.

"Aw, Pete! Why'd ya ruin our fun?" Micky pouted. "David _needs _to be given a hard time now and then."

"Two against one isn't fair. I tickle him lightly, and don't keep it up forever," was Peter's answer. "You guys get carried away."

Peter went up to the bedroom. The door was locked. Peter knocked.

"Let me in, David. Its not a trap; its just me."

Davy immediately opened the door, let Peter in, then locked it quickly behind him.

"Thanks for helping me out, Pete."

"No problem. You'd do the same for me."

Davy nodded.

"They like picking on you 'cause you're a pain in the ass."

"I know. I guess everyone gets what's coming to them, you know?" Peter smiled at Davy's English way of expressing himself. It seemed to cling-at least most of it, even after the seven years since he'd left England. Peter guessed Davy was one of those who would retain his English accent for life.

"So, you looking forward to bringing Audrey over tonight?"

"Yeah, sort of. I sure hope I can get the feeling back, if you know what I mean."

"Yeah." Peter hadn't mentioned Davy's confession since the night they'd talked about it. He figured Davy would bring it up when he was ready.

Things didn't go well with Audrey. In fact, things went exactly as they had gone with Paula. It wasn't that Davy didn't try. He tried hard as hell. He even kissed her-but there was nothing there. Absolutely nothing.

When Peter spied them kissing on the couch, his heart swelled with happiness for Davy. He felt like jumping up and down for joy, but resisted the urge. It seemed that Audrey was what Davy had needed to kick his libido for girls into high gear again. But the feeling didn't last long. Peter started sensing negative vibrations soon after. He knew Davy damn well, and _he knew_ that even though Davy was kissing her, he was forcing himself. Peter was aware, without being told, that Davy just wasn't into it... and his heart ached for his friend.


	3. Chapter 3

Visions of Peter dancing in his head. Way better than Christmas Eve...

It was time to get up, but Davy didn't want to. He wanted to linger in bed, as when he was half asleep he could let his mind wander, and he didn't feel quite so guilty about where it went.

Peter was up and trying to wake him. "We gotta go to practice, David."

Right then, his half-asleep dream consisted of holding hands with Peter-well more than holding hands. More like _caressing _hands. So when Peter shook his shoulder gently, Davy reached up and took Peter's hand in his. Then, realizing it wasn't in fact a dream, instantly yanked it away as if he'd grabbed onto a red hot poker.

But he didn't pull away quickly enough for Peter to notice, and _feel _what Davy had been doing, however briefly, to his hand. His fingertips had rubbed the top of Peter's hand lightly as he held it, sensuously, much like he would a girlfriend's hand. _Only Davy didn't like girls anymore._

Why had Davy taken ahold of Peter's hand like that? Peter imagined Davy had been mostly asleep when it happened, so it was no big deal. Maybe he'd been dreaming about a girl... uh-oh, that was right. _Davy didn't like girls anymore._

Davy's hand had been warm and it had felt good. More supportive than a girl's hand-stronger and more confident. Masterful, yet the touch was sweet, gentle. Peter shook his head abruptly. Why was he even thinking about this? Creepy...

After a long day of practice, Peter reclined in his bed, his mind churning. He had been wondering who this guy was that Davy had spoken of being attracted to ever since they had talked about it. He couldn't think of a single person that might be a possibility. Certainly not Mr. Babbit. Certainly not anyone at the grocery store they frequented, or any other place of business he could think of. Maybe someone Davy'd met in a club? But no... they didn't usually talk a lot to other guys, mostly to each other and girls. After all, listening to the music and girls were the main reason they went to a club to begin with. Well, it _used _to be the main reason. Until Davy lost his interest.

Now when anyone suggested going out on the town, Davy had this odd look on his face. Sort of like he felt like he didn't fit in. Lost. With no compass.

"Man, you're uptight, and I don't like it," Peter confronted Davy when Davy came up the stairs for the night.

"You're an observant one, you are."

Peter smiled again at Davy's expression. So English- like. Why did he find that so damn _cute?_ Whoops, gotta put a stop to that "cute" word. The others always snickered when he used it. But in truth there was really no other way of describing it.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"We already have, and got nowhere."

"We got nowhere because _you_ refused to talk any more about it," Peter reminded him.

"My hands are tied-I _can't_ talk about it. It just too... weird."

Peter could dig that. After all, he'd be mortified if he were attracted to another guy. He had to hand it to Davy for admitting it to him. It must have been rough.

"I could tell Audrey didn't do it for you either...plus you ended up taking _her_ home early too."

"Again, you're an observant son of a bitch."

"Nasty-mean and nasty, you are. How'd ya like that? Did I say it "English" enough?" Peter teased.

Davy cracked a smile against his will. Peter could at times be annoying, but he also had a way of cheering you up with his shenanigans. He was mischievious and he could poke fun at you in such an inoffensive way. He effortlessly turned things around so that you didn't look foolish. Even when yoiu _deserved _to look foolish. Yes, Peter was fully capable of charming you right out of your funk. It wasn't something he forced either-it was inborn, natural.

"What'm I gonna do, Pete?"

No one had to enlarge on that.

Peter chose his words carefully.

"I've been thinking, and... we really do need to come up with a plan of some sort. I don't really need to know who it is... that won't solve anything. But we've gotta figure out how to make things better for you... get you back to the way you were before."

Poor Peter. Wide eyed, innocent Peter. If only Davy had the backbone to tell him.

Peter got to the park exactly at the appointed time-3pm. Davy had asked him to meet him there, as there was rarely any privacy at home. And it would seem strange if they were both in the bedroom on a Sunday afternoon. Davy didn't want Mike and Micky to develop any suspicions. That was the very _last_ thing he needed right now.

Davy had gotten to the park early, and he'd finished nearly a third of a fifth of Jack Daniels by the time Peter arrived.

Peter took one look at the bottle on the picnic table and shook his head in disbelief. He sat down across from Davy.

"How long have you been here?"

"I dunno. I think since about one."

"Well, I guess that's not _too_ bad then," Peter said, referring to the amount of alcohol Davy had consumed. Davy could hold his liquor fairly well for a guy of his size and weight. He wasn't a heavy drinker, but he wasn't a stranger to it either, of course. And over a two hour period a third of a fifth wouldn't necessarily make him drunk-but he was nearing his limit. If he _kept _drinking it, that story could potentially change quickly.

Peter was right-Davy wasn't drunk-just a little tight-buzzed. He needed to talk to Peter, and he hadn't had the balls to do it without some help.

Peter had made up his mind before he even came that he would not hound Davy about who the guy was that had caught his fancy. It was irrelevant anyway. He would just listen to what Davy had to say-let him vent or whatever it was he needed, as his friend was obviously in need of emotional support. Peter liked to think he made a good security blanket.

"Why here, and not the beach?"

"Don't wanna get busted for drinking in public."

"This park is public."

"Beach is worse-more people." That was true.

Davy wasn't slurring his words. Nor was he acting out of character at all. Even with the booze in his system, he was showing signs of nervousness. As far as Peter could tell, it hadn't really loosened him up much.

"Things seem to be turning sour."

"Yeah, I've never seen you like this."

"I need to talk to you... I'm closer to you than anyone else. But at the same time, I'm not happy with the subject matter."

_That went without saying_, thought Peter. He, of course, knew what the subject matter consisted of. And he couldn't do a damn thing to help Davy, no matter how much he wanted to. Not unless Davy opened up enough to _allow_ him to help. Or _try _to help.

Davy took a slug from the bottle. "Whoa there, fella. You'll get sloppy drunk if you drink much more of that." Peter took the bottle away from him, and Davy sent him razor sharp darts of warning from those sparkly brown eyes of his.

"Tis my bottle," Davy said. "I can do with it what I want. Unless you want to share."

Peter figured the worst of two evils was to let Davy continue drinking it until he was three sheets to the wind. The lesser of two evils was for Peter to share it. So he took a slug, even though he didn't really want to.

"There...happy?"

Davy shrugged. "I guess."

"I've never seen you this apathetic. I'm here David... I'm here. You know me...I won't judge you."

It was true. Davy hadn't known Peter to judge hardly anyone, unless it was something really, really bad. Like abusing kids or animals, or hurting someone else's feelings. Things such as those Peter couldn't and wouldn't tolerate. But Davy knew for a fact Peter wasn't judging him for feeling this strange "attraction." Even though Peter didn't know it was _him-_the most important component. And that was precisely what concerned Davy the most. Peter might flip if he knew he was on the receiving end of Davy's affections. He could be unjudgemental now, but would he remain that way if he knew the whole truth?

"In a way, I'm creeped out. That is, a _big_ way."

"Well, I would think that would be natural... until you got used to it, that is." Peter was trying so hard to be careful with what came out of his mouth. One wrong move and he feared Davy would draw into his shell and snap it shut. Or become a snapping turtle again.

Peter had brought his bass along, and now he was glad he had. It always seemed to soothe Davy, relax and put him into a receptive, mellow state of mind. He strummed it softly now.

_Wrong thing to do!_ Davy noticed Peter sometimes stuck his tongue out just a little bit when concentrating on his playing. He was doing that now, and that was not something Davy needed to to be seeing! It was too friggin' sexy! And his hair falling into his eyes... Damn it, here Peter was, trying to help him, and he was only tempting Davy more! But how was Peter to know that? Davy had to remind himself that unless he was totally honest with him, Peter couldn't be expected to know about Davy's...urges.

The booze wasn't helping anything. It wasn't even dulling his senses. All it did was make him hyper aware of Peter's presence. He was also getting emotional, which was exactly what he didn't want. Lust was one thing, and hard enough to deal with all by itself. But emotions such as tender, fond feelings could get a person in _really _deep shit.

"Want me to sit beside you?" Peter... innocent Peter said this because, to him, it seemed reasonable. A friend in crisis needs comfort, so why wouldn't you offer to support them with your physical presence?

Davy cleared his throat. "Might not be wise," he said. He wondered if Peter would pick up on the cryptic meaning.

"Emotional support is _good_." Immediately after saying that, Peter paused, and his face changed the slightest bit. The average person wouldn't even notice it, but Davy did. Peter's brow had wrinkled slightly and he'd stopped all motion for an instant, as if he'd felt a mild shock.

But Peter recovered remarkably fast. "Why wouldn't it be wise?"

If Davy hadn't seen Peter's reaction a moment ago, he would have thought this was just another question from the ever-curious Peter. But somehow he knew it wasn't. He sensed there might be an underlying element. Peter could be trying to process, home in on some kind of clue from Davy. Davy wondered if Peter suspected...

But that, of course, could all be Davy's imagination.

"Because I'm so distressed about this that I might haul off and give you a Manchester kiss." Davy got out of _that _one, _whew! _Then again, maybe not. Peter's scrutinizing gaze told him that might not be the case. But Davy wasn't sure how much of this was just paranoia on his part. Peter was certainly studying him though.

Peter shrugged his shoulders and went back to playing his bass. _God, it sounded good. It sounded sexy._

Peter looked up suddenly at someone walking by. His eyes followed whoever it was for a few seconds, then he went back to playing. Davy looked over his shoulder to see who he'd been looking at. A girl. Jealousy struck like a cobra then. Lightning quick, sharp and stinging. Before Davy could even try for a defense. He was astonished. He was actually jealous because Peter had looked at a girl!

This idea of drinking Jack had been a big mistake-Davy saw that now. He didn't have the courage to tell Peter even now, so he'd might as well forget trying when he was sober. It would never happen. He guessed he'd have to live the rest of his life like this-asexual. Or at least _appearing _that way to everyone but Peter. Because Peter knew the truth-he just didn't know the most important element of the truth.

Why subject Peter to this anyway? It was _his _problem, not Peter's. Peter had never done anything to make Davy think he felt _that way_ about him. So why traumatize someone who didn't need complications thrust on him? Why traumatize him more than he already had? No, he couldn't do that to Peter.

_Can't drink him off of my mind, _thought Davy. It was true. Booze wasn't helping, so what else could he do but avoid Peter? Not right now though. Right now he was gonna drink some more.

"Gimme that bottle," he said, his accent thicker than ever.

"You've had enough, David."

Davy snatched the bottle and took a deep drink. Peter snatched it right back, the velocity of his grab causing some of the liquor to spill onto the top of the picnic table, pool on the top, then drip over the side right onto Davy's lap.

Davy jumped up in horror, madly swiping at his pants. "Good one, Peter! Now it looks like I peed my pants!"

Peter put his hand over his eyes, then mouth, trying not to laugh. Wow, catastrophe of the year! Davy got something on his clothes!

"Come on, let's go back to the Monkeemobile. You _did_ walk here, right?" Peter asked, scanning the parking lot.

"Yeah." The park was only half a mile from the pad.

"I can't drink it off my mind," Davy said, repeating his earlier thoughts out loud.

"That sounds familiar somehow..." Peter shrugged. "And you're right-it'll still be there tomorrow."

As they walked, Peter dumped the now half empty bottle of Jack into a trash can. Davy didn't object. Peter slipped his arm around Davy's shoulder to steady him. Davy wasn't feeling drunk, just buzzed. But no way was he telling Peter that, because then he'd take his arm away.

They got to the Monkeemobile, and then Peter did something totally unexpected. He pulled Davy into a hug.

"I'm here for you, man. No matter what. I know you're going through a lot of stress right now, and I want you to know you can always come to me."

God, the wonder of Peter's embrace! Davy didn't want him to let go. He held Peter tight-something more than lust clawing at his gut and heart. Something he didn't want to examine too closely.

Peter allowed Davy to cling to him. He sure was fond of him, and he felt good in his arms. He told himself that the reason the hug lasted so long was because he assumed Davy was drunk. But that wasn't the entire truth. In a way, Peter supposed he was testing Davy...


	4. Chapter 4

It was pointless though, thought Peter. Just because Davy was attracted to _one _guy didn't mean he'd feel any attraction for others. That would be like assuming that a girl would respond favorably to a hug from _any _guy, just because she was straight. And anyone could tell you that _wouldn't _happen. So testing him would do no good, as Peter was not the one Davy was hung up on. So... back to square one.

When the hug ended, Davy lowered his head. Poor guy-he had no one to hold him and comfort him in his "hour of need," as Peter's mother would have put it. Davy's mother had been dead for seven years, and he wasn't dating anyone right now, so he was having to deal with this solely on his own. In addition to that, Peter supposed he was also feeling ashamed.

_Maybe it was someone close to Davy!_ Someone that he didn't want Peter to know about because he was embarrassed...

That was why Peter had paused when Davy had said something about it not being wise for Peter to sit next to him. Why did Davy say that? Was the pent-up desire for this mystery guy have Davy so worked up that he... no, Peter realized Davy'd said that because he wouldn't want anyone at the park to get any ideas about the two of them.

Could it be... no... no way. Peter couldn't believe the thoughts that drifted in and out of his mind as it raced here and there. But he couldn't seem to tame those thoughts. He almost laughed out loud at the sheer absurdity. This was insane. But still... a nagging feeling was picking away at him. He was sure Davy didn't see anyone on a regular enough basis to develop feelings. Unless...was there any way it could be someone actually living under the same roof as Davy? One of the band members? No, that was totally crazy. Over the top. They were all friends-good friends. None of them were gay, or even bi, or at least he'd never gotten even a whiff of any of that from any of them.

Wrong-Davy had _admitted_ he was attracted to a male. So, that meant Davy had to be bi, didn't it? Peter had seen Davy with enough girls to know he wasn't strictly _gay._ He'd also heard action in the bedroom on dozens of occasions.

Maybe just _one_ guy did it for him? That was the most likely scenario. But still, that didn't answer the biggest question. Why? When Davy had always been such a ladies' man? Peter had to admit he'd also like to know _who._

Peter dared to let his mind examine each band member mentally. He was almost afraid to, and chills snaked through his body at the thought. Could it possibly be Mike? When Davy cried out for help for any reason (like the time he got wedged between the bathtub and the wall, or the time he got stuck in the cupboard) it was most often for Mike. Well, really, they _all_ cried out for Mike when in any kind of difficulty that they couldn't put to rights on their own, so that really wasn't a factor. Mike was the most mature one, the grounded one. The one they could all count on to keep his cool in a crisis.

They had more or less appointed Mike leader of the group almost right from the start. So naturally they would all think of him first when asking or, most often, screaming, for assistance when they couldn't get out of a bad situation. Peter was just as guilty of that as Davy. And he didn't feel anything at all for Mike except friendship and respect. And he'd never seen any questionable behavior or the slightest glimmer of desire for each other in either of the other two.

Micky? He and Davy got along splendidly, but again... Peter fancied himself pretty intuitive, and nothing had ever sparked any suspicions surrounding the two of them either.

Well now... there was no one left in the band... except _him._ And that, of course, would be beyond outlandish. They shared a room, and while they were not hesitant to display affection (in a masculine way), Peter knew without a doubt that he'd probably be the _last _guy Davy would have the hots for. If Davy were to go for another guy, reasoned Peter, it would be some drop dead gorgeous man in a suit who had his shit together.

Even though Davy and Peter kind of nestled up together on the couch at times, it was all so innocent and innocuous. It was often chilly in the house during winter, as Mr. Babbitt was stingy with the heat. So Peter and Davy sometimes huddled close with a blanket. Of course, that didn't explain why they did the same thing in summer. Even so, Davy had never insinuated in the least that he might be interested in Peter on a personal level. So... no doubt he could count himself out.

But _who_ it was didn't really matter, Peter reminded himself. It was the fact that Davy was in a tough spot, and needed help. The question was, how could he help him? He felt like a cookie right now-a crumbling cookie. Useless. All his thoughts were jumbled. What had happened to the Davy he'd known and loved?

Nothing-he still loved him, and always would. And he'd stand by him through this personal hell Davy was facing, no matter what.

Up the stairs and into the bedroom they went, passing Mike and Micky lounging on the couch, nodding silent greetings, the Jack Daniels vapor invading the other two guys' nortrils as they breezed by.

Mike took a drag of the roach and passed it to Micky. "Uh-oh," said Mike. Someone's been drinking, and I think its David... Peter looks more than passably sober. And did you see how Davy took the stairs slower than usual?"

"Yeah, well. I'm not surprised. Remember what Peter said about Davy being hot for some girl."

"Oh, I didn't forget. David hasn't been himself since then."

"Well, maybe Peter can help him with this thing. You know how emphatic Peter is. Might be just what David needs right now."

Mike grunted his agreement.

Davy plopped down on his bed, his gait a little unsteady, but his thinking fairly clear. Well, maybe not _completely_ clear. Perhaps a touch fuzzy around the edges.

Peter had only taken two or three good slugs just to passify Davy and keep the bottle away from him, but he did feel a tiny bit tipsy. Wow, either that Jack had been unusually potent, or it had been too long since he'd had hard liquor. But that was stupid. Wasn't every bottle of Jack exactly 80 proof?

As a rule, Peter _did_ drink mainly beer, so he supposed it wasn't surprising. Nothing to worry about, in any case. All his senses were up to par and he merely felt a bit of extra warmth circulating in his body. He'd had just enough to feel slightly good. But god, the stuff had tasted like lighter fluid! It had burned all the way down, drinking it straight like that. How could Davy stomach a third of a bottle? The little Brit was _tough... _all the way through.

Davy startled Peter out of his musings. "Peter, can we talk about this... problem I have... again?" Davy was adamant that, come hell or high water, he was going to tell Peter today. He could no longer live like this. Better to be a bit buzzed than stone cold sober when he told Peter, so it may as well be now.

"Sure, babe. Maybe you shouldn't think of it... as a... problem." Peter didn't know if he'd said the right thing or not, but he wanted to put Davy as much at ease as possible. Be casual about it. He didn't want Davy to feel worse about himself than he obviously already did.

"Whew...that last slug might've been the line between buzzed and pickled ," said Davy, shaking his head slightly.

"You're fine. You're not even slurring. But if you'd had half a bottle, you'd have been hammered."

"Guess you got there just in time," Davy smiled, reflecting on how Peter was so reliable and dependable.

Peter reclined on his bed, propped up on an elbow, and facing Davy on his own bed, attempting to appear as non-threatening as possible. "Okay, whenever you're ready, let me have it," he said, purposefully nonchalant.

Davy somehow wished Peter hadn't worded it quite like that.

"Well, um... I don't think I can do it, Peter. Tell you who it is... that is."

"The most important thing is _helping_ you. I don't see that it matters so much _who_ it is."

"Oh yes, it does. It matters a _lot._ More than you know."

"Then its someone we both know?"

"Uh, yeah..."

"I've wracked my brains, and can't think of a single person it might be."

_Right under his nose_, thought Davy. Right under his nose, and Peter had no idea-not even the slightest clue. He found himself not concentrating so much on himself now; being more concerned with how Peter was going to take the news.

"Peter... this person... means the world to me. He's a very dear friend."

Well, that was a bit of a shocker, since the guys had lots of casual friends, but the only really _close _friends they had were each other.

"Gotta admit, David... you have me totally perplexed. The only people we're really close to is... each other."

Davy nodded, feeling as things were in slow motion, forcing himself to meet and keep Peter's gaze. It wasn't the booze, it was his tormented state of mind.

Pure silence filled the room like a ghost, or smoke, or the top of a very tall mountain covered in pristine snow.

"David..." This came out of Peter's mouth after what seemed an eternity of silence. He couldn't seem to form any more words.

"This is bloody awful, Pete," Davy sounded like he might break down.

"Its alright. You're doing fine. Which is it, Mick or Mike?"

Davy swallowed. "This will be too hard for you, Pete."

"I can take it. I just don't know how Mick or Mike will take it, but we can tell them together, if you want. I won't abandon you... at a time like this."

Davy knew Peter wouldn't abandon him at _any_ time, but he didn't voice it.

"It _isn't _Micky or Mike! Oh god..."

Peter just stared at him. At first, his mind couldn't grasp what Davy had just said. The thought lurking just underneath was slippery, like a raw oyster. He must surely have misunderstood the strongest hint he'd ever heard in his life. If it wasn't Micky or Mike, then... his mind refused to embrace it.

Realization did dawn on Peter, but very slowly. Like a cloud, it drifted insidiously closer, curling and swirling, eventually enveloping him. In the meantime, Davy just said there watching all the myriad of emotions wash over Peter's cherished face. Peter's expression was like a book-the cover slowly opening to reveal the contents. The shocked, horrified contents. Davy wasn't sure where it was going until he saw the fear...

Peter was frightened-probably more frightened than he'd ever been in his life. Davy-his dear friend, the one he'd looked up to and admired for so long. The one he loved to watch play the tambourine, marveling at how much of an expert he'd become through sheer tenacity, admiring Davy's style, his class, his determination, the way he'd made up his own unique little dance, the way he laughed-it being impossible not to laugh along with him because it was so contagious.

Davy had been a jockey, handling a 1200 pound speed crazed animal with no fear, but rather, gusto. Davy was street wise. Could hold his own, despite his size. He was the fastest runner Peter had ever known. He lifted weights-he proved himself capable of so many things that most people of normal stature wouldn't even attempt to do. He was a little dynamo who didn't seem to know the meaning of the word "_can't."_

But so much more than all that, it was the heart Davy possessed that had won Peter over almost from the day they'd met. Davy would do _anything _for a friend. He'd crawl on his knees across a desert if you needed his assistance, he'd be there for you no matter what kind of crime you'd committed, no matter how much a fool you'd made of yourself, he'd still stand up proudly and proclaim you as his friend.

Peter not only admired Davy, as that was too weak of a word. He adored him. He cherished his friendship. He'd never admitted these things in so many words to anyone, and hardly even to himself, but now...this Davy that he so admired was attracted to _him? _

It was surreal, and Peter felt numb and boneless. He flopped over onto his back, covering his eyes with his forearm. _How could this possibly be true? _ He knew now, in this instant, that for such a long time he'd been denying just how much he really cared for Davy.

Davy didn't say a word. He knew Peter needed time. He understood Peter had to feel like a bolt of lightning had hit him. The fear was cold and forbidding, and Davy could almost feel it from several feet away. Peter was a block of ice right now, but Davy was hoping he'd begin to melt soon and at least be able to discuss it.

Suddenly, Peter was on Davy's bed with him, sitting beside him. Holding him... tightly and with an undertone of... what? Desperation. Desperation to make Davy feel better.

"For god's sake, David! Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Peter's voice had a pleading quality to it that told Davy all he needed to know. Peter wasn't afraid anymore. He wasn't angry or upset either, even though Davy knew Peter would never thrust either of those last two emotions at him. Peter was just too understanding and compassionate. Peter was _solid._

"I couldn't, Pete...I tried for the longest time to tell you... but every time I thought I was finally going to do it... I lost my nerve."

"It doesn't matter now anyway... now I know-that's the important thing." They sat there silently holding each other, Peter's lips right up against Davy's neck. Not kissing, not moving. Just pressed up against his neck. Clinging. Accepting.

"Wow, I really thought you'd... freak out," murmured Davy after a while.

"Oh, I guess I did... a mini freak-out. But it didn't last long. What I don't understand...at all...is..._why."_

_"_Why? Why? Peter, do you think you're not worthy or something?"

"But _why_ me?"

"Because you're Peter. Everything you are, and everything you stand for. I think the world of you. And sometimes... I guess...other feelings can follow that."

"But _I've_ always looked up to _you_," Peter tried to explain.

"Well then... I guess we just admire each other," a soft smile touched Davy's lips.

"I'm sorry I gobsmacked you with it though," Davy apologized.

"Gobsmacked?"

"Sorry... English slang. I dumbfounded you is what it means. I didn't mean to shock you, but there was really no other way to tell you. I didn't know how to soften the blow."

"I'm just so glad you did. All this time... I couldn't figure out for the life of me who it might be. Then, when we started talking... I realized it must be another member of the band. But I never _dreamed_ it might be _me_."

They had shifted somewhat, and Peter ended up with his head in Davy's lap. All very innocent. Peter on his back, Davy brushing the hair out of his eyes and smiling.

"Know how long I've wanted to do this?" Davy asked softly.

"No..."

"Forever."

Peter smiled, and his dimple made Davy's chest feel like it was expanding with... what? Emotions. Really strong emotions...

"Why'd I have to get shit faced... to tell you this?"

"David, you're NOT shit faced. You're just a little buzzed. Just right, I'd say, for me to take advantage of you," Peter laughed good naturedly.

"So you...?" Davy didn't have the nerve to ask what he wanted to.

"I don't know, David... I've never been... in a situation anything like... this before. But I know you want honesty, so I'll be frank and tell you that I think... I'm completely straight."


	5. Chapter 5

The hand that was so tenderly brushing the hair back from Peter's face suddenly hesitated, hovered, and drew slightly back. So very slightly that it nearly escaped Peter's notice. But not quite. A barely perceptible pause followed, and Davy uttered, "Oh... well, of course you're straight. I already knew that."

He tried-oh how he tried _so hard _to sound casual. As if it were no big deal. Like... oh well, it doesn't matter that much anyway.

But Peter knew better. He knew as sure as he knew his address that Davy was hurting. The bassist felt like he was withering inside. But he'd _had_ to be honest. To be any other way would have been not doing right by Davy.

Davy tried to quell the ache that was welling up. It shocked him with its intensity. It opened his eyes though. Not until now did he realize how serious his attraction to Peter really was. Even after all the days and nights of the torment of wanting him.

Peter's nearness was suddenly unbearable. Not only did he _want_ Peter, but he _needed_ him. A simple, uncomplicated attraction or even lust he might have been able to deal with. But this...

Davy practically sprung off the bed, Peter's head bouncing down on the bedspread when Davy's lap disappeared without warning. Davy couldn't handle the closeness a second longer. If he couldn't touch Peter lovingly as he had been when brushing the hair from his eyes, then he didn't want to even be in Peter's vicinity. There was too much longing. Couldn't Peter see how vulnerable Davy was right now? But then, none of this was Peter's fault. Davy _himself _had brought this all on.

Peter, sweet Peter saw nothing wrong with having his head in Davy's lap, or for that matter, snuggling in front of the TV. That was just Peter. His love for a friend, or his favorite pajamas or a bowl of ice cream or a downy comforter was pure. Untainted. Davy knew him like a well loved, well read book. Peter had an innocence, a naive nature that was not Davy's to tamper with, or soil.

The reasonable part of Davy knew he was guilty of no wrong-doing, yet he felt as if he had violated Peter somehow. Peter was a grown man-he knew about gay people, bisexual people..._is that what I am?_ Davy shivered with half revulsion, half disbelief. What had become of him, wanting his friend and fellow bandmate in this way?

But it was perfectly true that Peter wasn't in the dark about things of this nature. So why did Davy feel as if he'd corrupted him? Maybe because Peter looked up to him, at times even emanating him. He had so much admiration and respect for Davy that Davy felt he had failed Peter by not being who Peter had thought he was. _Had he really failed Peter? Disappointed him?_

"I don't want you hurt..." Peter's voice trailed off. "You've been so good to me..."

"Forget it. I'll be fine. I'm not... _that _fragile." But even as he uttered the words, Davy was aware of how shattered he was inside. He _was_ fragile, but he didn't want Peter to know it.

Peter tossed and turned all night that night, and he could hear Davy doing the same. Peter took advantage of his awake time by examining his relationship with Davy. He'd always had a warm feeling when Davy was anywhere near. Sometimes _tingly _as well as warm. He'd never gotten that feeling with the other guys. Davy's smile and sparkling eyes made Peter feel like he could accomplish anything. His encouragement inspired Peter to practice even more than he would have otherwise. To push himself. Even when Peter was exhausted and burned out, Davy's cheerleading qualities gave him incentive to keep going until he had his music as perfect as possible.

The affection Peter felt for Davy was unlike anything he'd known before, with anyone. He wondered if it went beyond affection-but at the same time, he couldn't even imagine doing more than the snuggling on the couch in front of the TV that had become almost a ritual with them. He couldn't, for instance, imagine kissing Davy or touching him as a lover would. And anything beyond that was, well... _unthinkable._

Peter felt like a bungee cord. It had been happening for a few days-ever since Davy had made his confession. Life went on as usual, Davy attempting to appear as normal as he possibly could around the others, and Peter too. But Peter knew different. The bungee cord part came in when Peter got too far away from Davy physically. Every time he ventured past a certain point, he felt a strong, urgent pull back in Davy's direction. He thought at first that his mind was playing tricks on him. But he soon realized that wasn't the case. What _was _the case was, he couldn't standbeing _away_ from Davy.

Davy's aloofness was ever present, although he put on a good act in front of the others. Peter could feel it more than actually see evidence of it. Especially when they went to bed at night. Davy was a new Davy-distant and cool. He was just as nice to Peter as he'd always been, but a disturbing element had been added. He was guarded-that's what it was. He gave Peter a wide berth when they passed each other, stepping back first if they both reached a doorway at the same time. Instead of them both rushing forward and squeezing through at the same time, which had been the standard before this. As if he were afraid Peter would burn him if he were to, God forbid, touch him.

"What's with the shield, babe?" Peter asked one night as they undressed for bed.

"Shield?"

"David, you're on guard all the time."

"Maybe," said Davy, with that single word admitting he'd been avoiding Peter as much as was possible without calling undue attention to the two of them and their predicament.

Peter came over and sat beside Davy on Davy's bed. Davy stiffened with reservation. He didn't _want_ to be this close to Peter.

"Relax... you've never drawn away from me like this before." Even as he heard Peter's words-heard the hurt in them, and even against his will, Davy could feel himself continue to withdraw.

"I'm not trying to do it, Pete. I just...can't...help it."

"You're afraid I'll hurt you, aren't you?"

Davy thought hard, but describing how he felt just didn't seem possible. He couldn't articulate it. The emotions were too strong.

"Its too...hard to explain," his voice sounded miserable. "You aren't feeling...the same way I am, Pete."

Peter gave Davy a break and went back to his bed. Davy tried several times to converse with Peter, but his mouth just wouldn't seem to operate. Mainly, he just didn't know what to say. There wasn't a fix for this.

After the lights went off, Peter's mind went into overdrive. Why was he wanting to be so close to Davy lately? Because Davy was pulling away, he told himself. And Peter wasn't used to that. Or maybe the warm feelings he'd had for Davy all along meant more than simple friendship? Was that why Peter had always cuddled up to Davy, but neither of the other two? And why did Peter feel such exaltation when standing close to Davy when they practiced or performed a gig? Actually making him feel giddy?

And why did he _still _want to be as near Davy as possible when they were both dead tired from twelve hour practices, trying to get it just right, and both irritable as all hell?

Peter didn't have the answers, but he _did _know things couldn't continue this way. His heart felt wrenched when Davy avoided him. What could he do about it though?

Confront Davy! That's what he could do! Well, not really confront Davy, as they both knew where Davy stood. It was _himself _he needed to confront. He needed to test himself, that's what! He needed to find out if those warm feelings he got when near Davy were more than friendship. And there was only one way to do that...

Peter, clad only in his shorts, crept from his bed to Davy's, and surreptitiously crawled under the covers before Davy even knew what was happening.

"What the hell...? Peter! What are you doing?"

"Calm down...let me explain." Peter then told Davy what he'd been thinking alone in his bed.

_"Test_ yourself?"

"Yeah... 'cause now I'm not at all sure... if what I said the other day is true."

"About you being completely straight?"

"Yeah. The more I think about it... the more I wonder if these warm feelings might be something I've been... denying... even to myself."

"So you're using me... as a... guinea pig?"

"_NO! _David, you know I wouldn't do that! But I do need to find this out for myself. Its the only way. If you don't want me to... if you think I'm being cruel... just tell me."

Davy sighed heavily. Peter came up with the damndest things sometimes. You never knew what he was going to throw at you. He knew one thing for sure though-the temptation was going to be the death of him if Peter stayed in his bed much longer. But, at the same time, he _did _kind of understand Peter's logic. Peter was incredibly straightforward. It was just his way. This "test" probably made perfect sense to him.

"But... like you said... I don't want to mislead you by mistake." Peter looked pitiable in the nightlight's gentle glow, his lower lip stuck out just a bit, teasing Davy to no end. Poor guy was feeling bad and Davy wanted to just take it all away-kiss away the hurt.

"You break my heart and I'll break your ass," Davy said, grinning in a way that pacified Peter a bit and made the pout disappear.

"So its okay? You're... sure?"

Davy nodded. If there was a chance... just the slightest chance that Peter might feel the same way about him, this "test" was worth it. Even the anguish if Peter should decide it wasn't for him, would be worth it, because then Davy would know _for sure._

"Well... what do you intend to... do?" asked Davy uneasily. He felt a bit creepy at the moment. Being tempted by someone, and actually _acting _on it were two very different things. He was glad he was wearing shorts, and not sleeping nude tonight. Davy might well find out the feelings he had for Peter were just a result of their close friendship, and not desire. _Then what would he do if Peter were to feel differently? _ Oh god, what had he gotten himself into?

Peter was tense-_very _tense. Davy suspected he was losing his nerve, regretting even coming to his bed, wondering how to find a way out of this.

"You gonna be stealthy... like you climbed into bed with me?" Davy was trying to lighten things up, and wonder of wonders, it worked. Peter laughed softly.

"What style do you prefer? I have a catalog to choose from."

"Oh, I take it you have experience in this, then?"

"Hell, no. But I'm up for suggestions."

"How about just talking... for a while... seeing if its possible for us both to relax," Davy was being serious now. Davy, pretending to shift his position to get comfortable, edged his hips, then his shoulders a bit closer to Peter in such a subtle, quiet way that Peter almost missed it. But not Davy's body heat-that he couldn't miss if he had tried.

"I haven't been..._punishing_ you for what you said the other day. You know... about you being straight," said Davy. "I just couldn't help it... I just felt I needed to keep distance between us."

Peter nodded. "Understood. Now... would you mind if I stalked you a bit?"

"Ahh... stalk me as in eventually pounce on me... like prey?" Davy was enjoying this interchange. It was instrumental in easing them both into this foreign, unexplored territory.

"No... not exactly. I would prefer it be... mutual."

"A mutual attack..." Davy stifled a giggle. "No, you're right. A mutual 'test," ya know?"

"Test... yes."

They bantered for a while, growing more comfortable with the knowing that no pressure would be applied to either of them.

Somehow, somewhere along the way, they became physically closer yet. Whether it was Davy or Peter who closed the gap completely between their bodies was probably close to equal in the end. It was all so natural, the way it progressed. Soon they were touching, and not unduly worried about it either.

Every little movement Peter made was magnified a thousand times by Davy's senses. He was so hyper aware of Peter's body, Peter's low pitched voice, Peter's soft warm breath as he spoke.

Peter was on his stomach, propped up on his elbows, and Davy was on his back.

As if coming from out of a dream, Peter's fingers began to trail a path up and down the inside of Davy's arm that was nearest him. Davy could not stop the gasp that escaped his lips. Was it real? The weight of the touch was not much more than that of a feather, or dandelion fluff, mused Davy, but he was so acutely aware of it that he could hardly remember what they were talking about, so focused was he on the sensation. The effect it had was magnificent.

He had a full erection, and had had it for some time. In actuality, since only seconds after Peter had slipped into bed with him. How could he have doubted feeling more for Peter than friendship with that ominous stiffness? Davy's arm was now stretched out somewhat so it nestled partway under Peter's chest as Peter laid there supported on his elbows, his fingers still lazily tracing a line up and down the arm he had trapped under him. Actually, it wasn't trapped-Davy had put it there-snaking it slowly and surely under Peter's chest. He'd done it without even thinking about it.

Davy knew the caressing fingers were Peter's way of telling him that he was comfortable with the situation. If Davy had been caressing Peter's arm like this, he couldn't have been absolutely sure if Peter were receptive or not. But this way... Peter was reassuring him all was well.

Peter steeled himself. It had gotten this far, and he was feeling nothing but an easiness with Davy that was part of their everyday life. That, and desire. No revulsion, no disgust. This was really no different than nestling on the couch-just more intimate. He was braced for the impact of how close their bodies were to hit him. _In bed together too. _ But no impact came. He just felt so _right_ about it.

"This feels good," he said simply. It was all that needed saying.

"Yeah... good." Davy confirmed that he felt as Peter did, knowing Peter needed to know-needed the reassurance. Peter had no doubt Davy was as confused as he was, this being virgin territory for both of them. He also knew he needed to be the "leader" of sorts so Davy would know without a doubt that Peter was feeling it too. Davy had already confessed-Peter hadn't.

Davy's hand that was under Peter's chest felt warm with Peter's heat. Davy, so naturally that it amazed him, curled his fingers a bit to explore Peter's chest hair. His first thought was that it was so soft-he hadn't expected that. Not unlike the hair on Peter's head. Silky. Secondly, it was stimulating to him. Even though his fingers barely brushed him, Peter's senses were on high alert, and he felt his groin tighten with Davy's first touch.

Ahhhh... _there it was_...there was Peter's proof. Proof that his feelings for Davy went beyond fondness and friendship. Otherwise, why was his cock stiffening? Just from Davy merely touching his chest hair? One thing was for sure-he was grateful they weren't on their sides, as Peter's erection would surely take him past embarrassment-all the way to shame. He had no way of knowing-_yet-_that Davy also had an erection.

Davy's fingers continued, and Peter felt himself getting more and more sexually excited.

"I like that..." Peter said softly, knowing Davy still needed encouragement. When Davy happened to touch Peter's nipple, it sent a shudder through Peter. He very nearly moaned out loud, but was able to stifle it before it came out.

Davy hadn't meant to do that, but he'd detected Peter's reaction. He'd felt the quiver, and also the need in Peter. He was sure of it. He would have bet money on it.

As if in answer, Peter, gathering courage, rolled onto his side, being careful not to get so close that his erection touched Davy, and caressed Davy's neck much the same as he'd done to his arm. Testing... This time it was Davy who had to choke down a moan.

Davy suddenly turned over onto his side. Peter hadn't known he was going to do it, and before he could back away, their erections collided. Startled, they looked into each other's faces, wide eyed and mutally astonished.

"Oh... sorry," said Davy.

"Me too!" Then they both laughed at the same time.

"This would be embarrassing if it weren't so damn funny, ya know?"

"I guess we're both guilty," said Peter. I thought maybe I was the only one."

"Not by a long shot, you're not."

That's when they hugged fully, Peter's lips coming down on Davy's neck. But unlike the last time, when Peter was just resting against him. This time his lips didn't remain motionless. They seemed to have a life of their own, and he began to kiss Davy's neck, and his breathing was something he _couldn't_ stifle.

Davy had goose bumps almost instantly. He made a noise in his throat that sounded half strangled, half pleading.

If Davy had any doubts of Peter's arousal, it was now completely erased. Not only by his erection, but by his labored, quickened breathing and the feverish way the blonde was kissing his neck. The hot breaths of air against Davy's cheek and ear, the moans that Peter no longer gave a damn about holding back.

Davy thought he was going to lose it, right then, right there. He thought he was going to come. This arousal Peter was stoking in him...

"This feels so weird..." said Davy, trying without success to distract himself.

"Being in bed with me... like this?" asked Peter between neck kisses.

"Yeah. I've never done this before, have you?"

"No. I've never felt like this ... before... only girls turned me on... before." Peter stumbled over his words a bit, hoping the same was true for Davy.

"Same here," Davy sighed as Peter started to nibble very gently on his neck.

Peter felt a rush of relief. "Good. Then I get you... all to myself."

Once again, Davy felt as if he'd explode if Peter did anything more than kiss his neck. Peter's words had come out sounding so erotic.

"Wow, that's erotic," Davy figured he should tell Peter how his words had pleased him. The breathless way Davy breathed out his own words bounced off Peter with the same effect.

Right now, Peter felt like humping the bed, or even better, rubbing up against Davy. But even more overpowering was the urge to kiss Davy...but there was a big problem with that... he was terribly afraid...


	6. Chapter 6

And so, Peter ceased up. Against his will, yes, but like it or not, he came to a screeching halt. The sudden realization of what was happening made him feel strangely boneless, like a soulless corpse. What do you do when the person you most adore and admire, and hold in the highest esteem, is there for the taking? Giving themselves to you? Well, Peter didn't know that beyond the shadow of a doubt, but Davy _had _admitted to being attracted to him. And that alone astonished him.

He had to remind himself that at any moment, either one-or both-of them could melt down, out of sheer emotional overload. He could reject Davy, or Davy could reject him. There were no rules for this precarious, risky game. That didn't feel good. And he imagined the thought felt every bit as bad to Davy. Davy _had_ started this whole deal anyway... he was the one who had put himself out there, leaving himself wide open to hurt. But this just made Peter admire him even more.

The fact remained that Peter didn't know what to do. He had no way of knowing if what he felt was fondness for his best friend, or possibly more, but, at all costs, he didn't want to head in the wrong direction, and give all hell a chance to break loose with their friendship. It had taken cultivation, and had been a long time in developing fully.

_You can't do something just because it feels good, or the mood hits you. You can't just jump into something like this without proper thought to the consequences. Not when you cared for someone as much as he did for Davy._

Peter realized he could admit to himself that he wanted to kiss Davy. But not because he desired him in a sexual way. Because he wanted to experience it and see if it could possibly _turn into _desire. This was where things got complicated and touchy beyond belief. Satisfying his own curiosity was too close to selfishness. Peter felt he could turn the corner too easily into pushing too hard, and possibly misleading Davy.

Peter reflected that Davy's feelings had to come first, no matter what Peter might be feeling. The kind of desire that Davy had been trying to tell him that he felt for Peter was possibly in a whole different league than just simple _desire_. This could turn a very dangerous game-much more serious than child's play or experimentation. Not the kind of game Peter would ever visit on Davy. Peter just didn't play around with people's feelings. And Peter was also terrified he might not be able to follow up on Davy's feelings.

_Shit!_ How could anyone in their right mind _not_ want Davy? Davy was so beautiful, so perfect, that Peter, who had never felt the tiniest attraction for another guy, saw Davy's appeal as brightly and clearly as the morning sun sparkles off a mountain stream. So brilliant that it hurts your eyes. Davy was more than real-he was a gift. Davy, the alpha male with the deceivingly baby cute face with enchantment written all over it. The kind of face you see only once in a lifetime-if you're even _that_ lucky.

Davy was a walking contradiction. He was full of confidence, and sometimes even a bit of cockiness, a hint of a swagger. Absolutely all male, yet he held such sensitivity, his lips perfectly shaped-full and sensual. Those gorgeous chocolate brown eyes with the ever-present twinkle that seemed to worm their way right into your soul- there was no place to hide from them, and they'd held Peter in a reluctant trance on more occasions than he wanted to remember. Gentle eyes, gentle touch, a questing suggestion of a loving nudge.

The way Davy cocked his head when listening closely made Peter feel special. No one would argue with the fact that Davy could certainly be accused of being a flirt. Peter had just thought it was part of his personality, but now he wasn't quite so sure. Now that he thought about it, a good portion of that flirtatious behavior had seemed to be aimed at _him_. Davy was charming and delightful even when he cussed quite colorfully when upset- how many people could claim _that?_ It all came together in a way that bordered on some elusive mystique that was Davy Jones.

Davy was undeniably masculine in every gesture, every mannerism. It was only his looks that might hold a question for some people. But, even then, that was only if you'd didn't know him.

Many would argue that his beautiful looks were just on the surface, that there was nothing deep there. But they would be wrong. No one knew this better than Peter. Davy wasn't shallow. His heart, his courage, his chutzpah were as real as he was. As his looks were. As his charm was. Davy was the whole package. He looked so damn innocent, but that was just an illusion. What Davy had was rare. Peter was astute enough to know that. Davy could pull it all off, even with that flawless baby face!

Peter had seen Davy pull girls up by the roots on many occasions, without even meaning to. Davy didn't possess a mean bone, and didn't intend to be a teaser-but hell, just _looking _at him hurt!

Davy's hand touched the nape of Peter's neck, applying the lightest of pressure, that Peter supposed could have been his imagination. But he knew it wasn't.

Peter, now seriously spooked, set back against Davy's urging. He felt Davy was right on the edge of making a move that could change their relationship-something that could never be changed back. Like a horse testing a rope, Peter didn't give in to the pressure. Like a young, frightened horse, he shied away.

Peter was just about to roll out of Davy's bed when Davy lunged at him. Maybe Davy had finally mustered the courage, or maybe he sensed this was his last chance before Peter bailed.

Peter gasped when he realized the moisture he felt on his neck came from Davy's searching, caressing lips. Shivers covered Peter's skin from head to toe.

"Just once..." Davy said softly as his arms held Peter on the edge of the bed. "Please... just once." Those buff arms of Davy's were even stronger than they looked.

Peter felt like playing possum. But what good would it do? Davy was no fool-he knew Peter wasn't going to become faint of heart under the pressure. Davy knew how much fortitude was built into Peter. Better to act like an adult and face up to this. Davy's allure was fast wearing Peter down to a nub. His nearness was an intoxication Peter was realizing he couldn't claw his way out of.

"Let's feel it together. Nothing complicated...just a kiss." Davy shocked himself with how easily those words flowed from his mouth. He'd never have thought he could get himself to say them out loud. "I know you feel the same... I can feel it. Otherwise I wouldn't ask, you know." _Desperate times... and he was desperate for Peter._

He had a point there. Peter _did_ want to feel it. He wondered what a guy would taste like. _No, _not just a guy. What _Davy_ would taste like. For he was the only one Peter wanted. But he couldn't imagine Davy not tasting fantastic.

"Your lips... and mine?" Peter stared at what he could see of Davy's eyes in wonder. "What if one of us... doesn't like it?" His voice sounded timid and uncertain to himself. He swallowed and his throat felt raw.

"Then we just pull away...no hard feelings."

Peter remembered how full and juicy Davy's lips always looked, and his mouth literally watered with wanting. "Just a taste..." Peter said very softly.

Davy didn't need any more encouragement. He expertly pulled Peter to him just like he'd done with so many girls in the past and sought Peter's lips in the semi-dark-nuzzling around until he found them.

He didn't have to worry about Peter pulling away. As frightened as Peter was, he was much more eager to kiss Davy than to escape. Peter's lips were nearly closed when they first touched Davy's. Davy always kissed with his mouth open a bit. A habit. Davy was a well practiced, sensual kisser-the guys liked to tease him about it and the way it always made girls melt. Not a little envy accompanied it. When Peter felt the first touch of Davy's lips, his lips also opened. So naturally too. WIth Davy, he didn't have to make an effort-it just happened. And Davy tasted just as good as Peter had hoped he would.

The kissing was gentle, tender and sweet-at first. Then something snapped in Peter. He _had_ to get closer still-even though they were clinging together almost tightly. Several minutes into the kiss, Peter said softly against Davy's lips, "I need more." He wanted a deeper kiss. Davy knew what Peter craved, and he delivered.

The kiss became urgent, yet still slow, mouths opening wider, and Davy teasing him with just a bit of tongue. Barely a hint. Peter found it was useless to try to brace against the currents that were sparking through him. He thought he'd surely crumple under the force of them. His insides felt as if they were crushing, mushing, together. He was helpless as a newborn baby under Davy's touch.

Peter's hand came up and cupped Davy's cheek... that baby smooth cheek. Davy was actively devouring Peter's mouth, and Peter floated in pleasure. For some reason, a bit of advice Peter had remembered from a friend a long time ago revisited just then. Peter had been 14, and a girl had shown some interest in him. So he'd asked his best friend how he would go about kissing a girl for the first time. He'd been terribly embarrassed to ask, but how else was he supposed to learn how to do it right?

His friend, remembering his own angst when he'd gone through kissing his first girlfriend, had tried his best to describe what he believed girls liked-and one of the things he'd mentioned was using a very gentle suction in the middle of a passionate kiss. Peter suddenly decided to try that now. For some reason, it seemed very important that Davy approve of his kissing.

The kiss was nearly out of control as it was, and if he could make it even _better,_ he wanted to do that for Davy. So he applied a tiny amount of suction where their mouths were joined. He sucked gently at the very tip of Davy's tongue, which was all that was accessible. What happened next took his breath away, and very nearly his sanity too. . .

Davy literally attacked Peter, licking and sucking at Peter's lips, moaning and holding Peter in a vise grip. Peter thought he'd die of the pleasure at any moment.

But then in another 5 seconds, Davy threw himself backward, away from Peter. "Damn it, Peter! If you're not... serious... you better stop fuckin' with me!"

Whoa! Peter didn't know how to react at this outburst. Davy realized it in an instant, and snuggled close again.

"What I mean, mate... is that you're using some pretty...heavy arsenal here. I can't handle that kind of teasing. My god, I never realized what a kiss could be... This could only happen to me." Davy stopped abruptly and looked at Peter.

"That sounded familiar, did it to you?"

"Yeah, actually it did," said Peter, really perplexed now. One moment Davy had been going insane with desire, and admonishing Peter for supposedly egging him on, and the next he was saying things that they'd both heard somewhere before. What the...?

"Who cares, though? Kiss me like that again... if you want to," Davy's voice held the low, teasing flavor of tantalizing promise. No wonder girls flocked to Davy's bed! Did he _really _think Peter would turn that offer down?


	7. Chapter 7

"Uh... maybe we should talk first," Peter looked pained, uncomfortable. The tremulous quake of his chest spoke volumes to Davy.

Davy's eyebrows raised, all his focus on Peter.

"The heavy arsenal you were talking about. David... I _know_ this isn't something to be taken lightly, and I, of all persons, am not...and that's why I'm uptight. I don't know where's its headed. We live together... we're in the same band... we both dated girls up until very recently. I guess what I'm trying to say is... "

Peter was clearly having trouble expressing himself. Davy waited quietly, in his solemn way. He knew Peter would eventually get his concerns across. Peter was a master at communication when he applied himself. _Never underestimate Peter_, he thought.

"What I mean is... is this just... messing around... or is it more?"

_Whoa,_ Peter was asking a loaded question, and Davy wasn't prepared. He wouldn't have been surprised if Peter had brought this up later on... but things were still in such an early stage that he was caught off guard.

"I mean... I know you're attracted... because you told me... but I don't know what you... expect from me." Peter was struggling, but Davy understood his ambivalence-and he was pretty sure that's just what it was. Davy could feel Peter's desire for him-there was no longer room for doubt on that, but what Peter was asking was if this was a potentially serious thing that was developing between them. He also sensed Peter was as afraid as he was of the emotions, the ramifications.

Davy would just as soon have turned right around and asked Peter what _he _felt about where things were going. But that wouldn't be fair to Peter. Peter had asked him a question. He needed to acknowledge and answer Peter's question. The ball was in his court, and Peter deserved an answer.

"Peter... I'm going to try to be as candid as I can... and tell you that... I don't know how to answer you... yet. I feel attracted, yes... I feel like touching you almost all the time, yes... I feel close to you-I feel your friendship, and I feel we understand each other... we have a real connection. But... where things might go from here... depends on a lot of things."

Davy hoped he was making sense to Peter.

Peter mulled that over for a moment. "Like?" he asked.

Whew, Peter was really putting the pressure on. Davy knew, though, that Peter was curious, and very concerned about where they each stood. And well he should. It was his right, reasoned Davy. This was not something trivial.

"Like... how you feel about it... how I feel about it, you see. It could be more than a menace, I know that, Peter. It could even be devastating. I get it. We'll have to be really... careful. That means communicating every step of the way... so no one gets hurt... I _wouldn't_ knowingly hurt you, Peter. And I know, without asking, that you wouldn't hurt me. But sometimes... people have to take chances in life."

"I do feel though... as if I'm taking advantage, Davy continued. "I mean, you're here... I'm here, in the same room, and well, you know. But its more than just digging you... its something I can't explain with words."

Davy sighed heavily. "I'm not being clear enough, I know that. What I mean is...I'm _not_ taking advantage, but I'm afraid you'll _feel_ that way. And I don't _want _that. Hell, what I'm trying to say is... you should never feel like a convenience. If you want me, then you want me. But I'd not play around with your feelings."

Peter sighed, heavy and long. "That's not what I'm worried about...David, don't you see? You live your life making conquests. You don't mean to... but... you hurt girls. All the time. You hurt them without even having a relationship with them. Without even touching them. They look at you... and they want you... and if they can't have you... for whatever reason... well, I've seen what it does to them. I don't want..." Peter stalled out, feeling a drag like that of an emergency brake that hasn't been released. But he lugged on, straining to will Davy to understand his reluctance to experience what must be an awful, heavy ache in the heart from being rejected by Davy Jones.

Peter couldn't let it out-the way he felt. He wanted to tell Davy that he had way too much power. The power to destroy with just a look. Of course he had no control over it, but it ravaged people anyway. And probably way over half the time, Davy didn't even have a clue-that was the freaky part. Peter wanted to talk about it. But he didn't know how to phrase it without making Davy sound like the worst kind of womanizer.

To go around, about your daily business, with no awareness of the extreme provocative feelings you were evoking in others. A foreign thing to Peter if ever there was one. Peter wondered what it must be like to live like that. Was Davy just so accustomed to girls' stares and come-ons that he had learned to block it out?

Davy furiously twirled his love beads, ran them through his teeth, examined his fingernails; although how that was possible in the dim light, Peter had no idea.

"This... trying to distract myself isn't working," Davy said this out of the blue. He was almost hissing, like an annoyed snake. Peter just gaped at him. Davy sure was acting weird tonight.

Davy went on haltingly yet with the conviction Peter so admired. "You, Peter. You remind me of the sun. Watching you in the park the other day... or the other week-I've even lost track of time lately-everything about you is golden. Your hair, your eyes, even that tan you're developing. You love being snuggled and touched. Your skin is even warm like the sun. I can't help but want to be near you. Peter, I don't _make conquests._ If that's the way it seems... then you've got me all wrong."

"But David, its not conscious on your part! Girls just fall for you... they can't help it. And I don't want to experience what... I've seen some of them suffer... from wanting you."

"Let's get into your bed," said Davy.

"Why?"

"I'll show you."

Why in the hell would Davy want to switch beds all of a sudden? Well, _why not?_ If it would make Davy happy...

So Peter got out of Davy's bed and into his own, Davy creeping close behind him like a prowler's shadow in a cartoon. That's what it reminded Peter of when he saw their shadows on the wall. Peter had recently pushed his bed up tight against the wall, in the corner. He'd done this since learning of Davy's feelings for him. He wasn't even sure _why _he'd done it. It was as if distance might protect him from Davy's charms. Protect him from temptation. _Temptation_-it seemed to be Davy's middle name, thought Peter wryly. He'd heard that word come out of so many girls' mouths. Girls who had been rejected by Davy, albeit, as politely as possible. Most of those girls never visited anymore. When asked why, they uttered that word more than any other. They couldn't even tolerate being in the same room as Davy because they seemed to be pulled to him like gravity. And they couldn't face that hurt again...

Once in bed, Davy took advantage and chased Peter right into the upper corner-the corner where the bed met the wall. Undulating like two quickly traveling caterpillars, thought Peter, as he squirumed and scrunched as close to the wall as possible, a relentless Davy in very hot pursuit. Once Davy set his mind on something, Peter knew it was going to be nearly impossible to stop him in his tracks, or even slow him down. He was dauntless.

_"Now_ what're ya gonna do?" Davy was playing with him.

"You've got me between a rock and a hard spot."

"Not exactly," mused Davy. "More like a _wall_ and a hard spot. "Whoops! Did I say that?" Davy clapped his hand over his mouth in mock horror. Cocksure cuteness so overwhelming, Peter almost couldn't bear it.

In an instant, Peter recognized the charm Davy was bestowing, and from past observation he knew it was dangerous as all hell. The warning bells were clanging unpleasantly in his head. Not tinkling, but _clanging._ Oh, Peter knew all about this little game of Davy's. Peter knew his methods, and this time, instead of a girl, the twerp was using them on him! Davy had a way of mixing humor with seriousness in just the right portions as he stalked his prey. _Alpha...sexy, confident alpha._

With Davy squeezing up tight against his side, Peter started getting tingly again. Prickles all up and down his sides, and lower... Wow, how was it possible for another man to turn him on like this? He wanted to scream, _get away from me, you heartbreaker!_

"How do you bloody like it, you tease?" Davy's voice and breath soft and too close to Peter's ear.

"Like what? What did I do?"

"Kissed me and then started giving me all the reasons you shouldn't kiss me anymore."

"I was being truthful... I _am _scared of those things. And you're being a shitty stinker!"

There was a moment of silence, then a frustrated, drawn out moan from Davy's direction.

"Pete, I told you not to fuckin' tease me!"

"I wasn't trying to...it was just...scary. It felt too good, David."

Now Davy grew somberly serious. "You don't have to do a damn thing, Pete. Cool it. I'm through. The only way now that anything will happen is if _you _come after _me. _ Just please quit your provocative actions."

"How've I been provocative?"

"At practices, rehearsals, gigs. Everywhere! You smile at me in that sly way of yours... grind your hips, shake that bass and then point it at me-you think I didn't notice your salute? I know its meant as a compliment, but... throwin' that dimple my way, and a lotta other things. I could list dozens. You're a sexy beast, and I'd take you down to the floor and kiss the shit out of you if there weren't other people around! Teach you to flirt and then withhold from me like that! And the funny thing about it is... you wouldn't fight it one bit."

That stung. Peter wasn't aware he'd even _been_ withholding anything. But what affected him even more was the part about him not fighting Davy, and that made him blush deeply. _ Davy knew Peter wanted him. _He'd probably known it a long time before Peter himself did!

Peter turned pale. "First, I'm saluting you with my bass out of respect for you, and second, I'm _not _deliberately provoking you! And no... I probably wouldn't fight it, but I play for keeps..." Peter's simple, bald statement took Davy aback. "And you don't," Peter added for good measure.

"How many times do you have to have proof that I don't do it on purpose? You've seen yourself that I'm not mean and testy with girls. I'm not careless with their feelings. Its just that a lot of them are just too pushy. And you're not teasing me, are you? How are you keeping me spellbound then?"

"Never tried to." Peter sounded weary. " _Just being myself_."

The simplicity in that statement told the entire story. Peter was being himself, but by _being _himself, he was spellbinding Davy. Davy understood suddenly, as the same thing happened to him with girls. Even doing _nothing _out of the ordinary, he attracted them. As far as the two of them went though, Davy didn't think Peter was grasping the spellbound part. How serious it was. How deep it grew in Davy's gut. But then, Davy himself wasn't owning up to not "playing for keeps," as Peter put it.

If he could just openly admit it-that he hurt women. But it hurt _him_ to think about it. To keep from ever hurting another woman, Davy would have to stay holed up, and never be seen in public. The yearning he caused was grevious. But he didn't know how to put a stop to it. A girl could see him on the street, restaurant, or at a gig, or anywhere, and have plentiful fantasy material for months or even longer. Then he'd have to start watching over his shoulder, as he always had at least a few stalking him when he was least prepared for it. He was just being himself, and the women craved him. Peter was just being himself, and Davy was craving _him. _Why hadn't he seen this before?

"Too many reasons..." Peter trailed off, unable to finish his thought, but it didn't take much to figure out.

"Maybe sometime you'll give me those reasons-_all _of them, so I can try to make things right,'' it took a lot out of Davy to say those words, but he hoped Peter would think it over and consider it.

His heart was leaden-lacking its usual sanguine spirit as Davy went back to his own bed, and it was all Peter could manage not to beg him to stay.


	8. Chapter 8

Life went back to as normal as possible, considering both Davy and Peter were practically despondent. At times Peter would see Davy watching him from across the room, or from their respective beds at night. Just a look-that was all it took. Astonishing, thought Peter. Those dark eyes penetrated like no other eyes he'd ever gazed into. Davy's eyes could make a person feel as if Davy could see every dream a person had ever had, every secret they'd ever kept.

And even though Davy's eyes were steely, they drew Peter in. It wasn't a cold, hard, callous type of steely-rather a determined search to see inside Peter's soul. Steadfast. Honest. At these times, Peter could almost feel Davy's hands on his body, his lips on his own. Those shaded, cryptic eyes made Peter go to mush inside.

Sanity was always beckoning, begging Peter to be rational, but he didn't know whether he should heed it or ignore it. It went mostly ignored. After much thought, he had concluded what he was up against -he wanted Davy, but he didn't _want_ to want him. That's what the whole problem was, in a nutshell. He wasn't being honest with himself. But he was scared. Life wouldn't be the same again, now that this radical change had impacted their lives. And he knew how pivotal the impact was -there was no question in his mind. If this were insanity, Peter wondered if he was willing to confront it.

Davy had stated he'd leave him alone from now on-that if Peter wanted him, he'd have to approach him. If only it were that simple. Davy had awakened feelings in Peter that had been there all along, semi-dormant, and Peter had obviously been in denial. He saw the transparency of his reactions to Davy so clearly now that he felt like lauaghing out loud at the irony of it.

Peter supposed Davy frightened him with how much he yearned for him. It felt so dense, so rich. The blood sometimes felt frozen in his veins, other times it pulsed with restrained desire. The poison was strong-and deadly. Once bitten by the Davy bug, Peter was in fear of his life. Not literally, but emotionally. He couldn't imagine wanting anyone else after the kissing they'd done that night. It had sealed the deal for him, even though he still stubbornly battled it. Davy could break hearts with only a look or a word, and Peter was terrified of being on the receiving end of that. Davy could destroy a person as carelessly as a drunk person might have a one-night stand, and not even be aware of it.

As for Davy, he was exasperated with himself. He abhorred the thought of putting any kind of pressure on Peter-especially emotional. Now, if he and Peter were on the floor wrestling around, and Peter were receptive, he might, _just might,_ put some pressure on-sort of like how he'd done in bed with Peter. But he was damned if he was going to make Peter feel badly about the fact that Davy wanted him. That wasn't Peter's fault, and he shouldn't have to suffer for it.

It still irritated him to all hell that he'd been so pushy with Peter that night in bed, and he'd hardly been able to harness himself, rein himself in long enough to catapult himself from Peter's bed, and back into his own. He shouldn't have been so aggressive. It should have been a lot more _mutual,_ the very word Peter had used for it that night that now seemed an eternity ago.

If Peter were interested enough, he'd come to him, and Davy was unwaveringly determined that's the way it was going to be. Either that, or nothing would ever happen between them.

Peter, in the meantime, was torn. Ripped apart jaggedly-not even a neat, straight line. A jagged rip takes much longer to heal. And the healing is more complicated. Not to mention much more painful. On the one hand, he knew it best to try to avoid close encounters with Davy. But on the other hand, his instincts told him this was what he truly wanted to take a chance on-regardless of the danger of a shattered heart hanging over his head.

In spite of Davy's resolve to not approach Peter unless Peter were to make overtures, Peter continued to taunt him. And the funny thing was, Peter was unaware of it. He was just being Peter... but how was Davy expected to rip his eyes away from those dimples, from the tent in the front of Peter's underwear as he undressed for bed? Or the towel Peter wore around his waist when he emerged from the shower? Or how golden Peter looked in the sunshine rays that played between the not-quite fully-closed curtains in the late afternoon? The many-colored strands that ranged all the way from light blonde to a darker golden honey that was Peter's hair, gleaming and soaking up the sunbeams? Or the absolute _worst _torture-the way it hung over Peter's eyes as he practiced his bass?

Mike was quickly losing his temper. This was the fourth time Davy had messed up. Davy _never_ messed up four times in a row. The music was sounding good, but Davy's vocals weren't cutting it. Either he forgot the lyrics or his timing wasn't right. In fact, it was _way _off. Mike couldn't figure it out.

"David, you're not concentrating. We both know you can do a lot better than that. Is that girl you're carrying a torch for troubling you so much that its affecting your work?" Mike asked, eyeing Davy closely for any give-aways from Davy's ever- expressive face.

"I'm okay. Just give me a minute." Davy looked a bit grim, and without his usual vigor. He was fighting some kind of inner battle-that much the observant Mike could see.

"Man, you're _not_ okay. If we want to make an impression at the gig in that swanky club, you're gonna have to get your act together, and fast." Mike walked away, set his guitar down and sat on a stool, his chin in his hand.

Micky just sat behind the drums, not knowing whether to leave Davy alone or stay where he was. Peter sighed, realizing he was the only one besides Davy who knew the real story. Davy wasn't as capable of putting personal problems aside to perform as Peter was. Peter was fortunate in that way. Peter was an accomplished musician, and he could almost put himself into an auto pilot mode when playing. Even when Davy lingered in the back of his mind, stoking a steady blaze-a flame that never went out. And Davy had no idea...Davy thought he was the only one with wanting, needing, on his mind.

"David, you're gonna have to straighten out these girl problems you're havin.' I'm tired of your brooding, and then not being able to concentrate because of it. Our music is first, damn it!" Mike was trying to light a fire under Davy's ass, but he did sympathize, whether he _wanted _to or not. When you were a young, hot-blooded guy, girls were a fact of life. And they did interfere sometimes. It was unavoidable.

They were able to limp through the practice session, and at least Davy was now putting effort into the timing. After he applied himself a little, the lyrics came back to him too. He heaved a huge sigh of relief. He found he _could_ do it after all, even with Peter's glorious face so close, haunting him, tickling sweetly at his insides.

That night when Peter came up to bed, Davy's eyes were on him the moment he stepped in the bedroom door. He could actually _feel_ them, like an physical touch. Those piercing, soul-searching eyes.

So Peter took a detour and did a 180, coming back from the direction of his bed to Davy's-sitting on the edge lightly. "Wanna talk about it, babe?" Peter made sure his voice was gentle and nonconfrontational.

"There's really nothing to talk about, that I can see," Davy's voice was noncommital and a little tight sounding. "Thanks for asking though, Pete."

Peter reached over and skated his fingers over Davy's skin, up and down his arm. He did it without even thinking-without even considering consequences or misinterpretations. Davy's eyes flew to his. "What's that all about?" he asked, flicking his eyes to Peter's hand. Davy was holding his breath-Peter sensed it. Tension suddenly lay heavy in the air.

"Just trying to comfort you."

"So I fucked up at practice. It won't be the last time."

"I'm just here for you... just know that." Peter didn't know what else to say, so he gave Davy the gift of his dimpled smile before shuffling off to his own bed.

"Ouch! _Damn it!_" This was followed by a loud thump. Peter's eyes popped open. He had just been starting to drift off to sleep, a fragment of a very pleasant dream beginning to claim him. A torrent of curse words flowed off Davy's tongue smoothy and fluently. In spite of himself, Peter smiled. Davy was a master cusser-except when women were around.

"David... are you okay?"

"No! Stepped on your damn shoe and twisted my bloomin' ankle on the way down!"

"Oh god, I'm sorry," Peter was out of bed in an instant. "What were you doing out of bed, anyway?"

"Looking out of the window."

"Why?"

"I couldn't sleep."

"How's the ankle?" Peter asked as he offered a hand and helped Davy to a standing position. "Can you walk?"

"Not bleeding likely... I take that back-I don't think its that bad." Davy limped a few steps. "I'll live," was his conclusion a few seconds later.

"David... I was just drifting off to sleep and I think I started dreaming about you."

"What?"

"Yeah... you ran your hand over my arm like I did to you earlier tonight. It was like a hallucination you get right before you go to sleep."

"No it wasn't."

"What do you mean?"

"Peter, I... touched your arm... sort of... on my way back to bed, from the window."

"Oh." Peter didn't know what to say, but he knew how it had felt. It had been more a caress than a touch. It had also been amazing. Tingles had shot from his arm where Davy touched him, and straight down to his crotch.

"Sorry about that... it just kind of happened." Davy climbed back into bed.

"What were you looking at out the window?" asked Peter, somehow needing more from Davy.

"Into the night."

"Thinking about?"

"You."


	9. Chapter 9

"There's something I ... haven't mentioned to you," Peter ventured, bravely returning Davy's even gaze as he spoke.

"Oh?"

"Yeah... I've been getting kinda... tingly around you for a while. Way before you even confessed your... um... attraction. I wondered what it was... now I think I have an idea."

Davy was hanging onto Peter's every word. "Tingly, in what way?" he asked, almost holding his breath, but not able to because he needed oxygen so badly right now. He sucked air into his lungs, afraid to do or say anything for fear this moment might not be real, might somehow slip through his fingers.

"Well... tingly, you know how that feels when you really like someone... Anyway, the tingles are all over my body... everywhere," finished Peter with an embarrassed sigh.

_"Everywhere?"_

"Yeah, _everywhere."_

"Well then... I guess its up to you to decide what it means."

Davy would not, _could not_ take advantage of the situation. He'd already vowed to himself-_Peter _would have to come to _him._ He wouldn't make any further advances if or until that happened. Davy had to force himself to put one foot in front of the other to walk back to his bed. And it wasn't because of his sore ankle either.

Over the next few days, the big gig at the "swanky" club, as Mike called it, was approaching fast. Mike kept asking Davy if he thought he was going to be able to perform without bombing on them. Davy assured him he would be fine. Luckily, his ankle had only swelled slightly, and he wasn't limping.

"If you want to talk about your girl trouble..." Mike said quietly.

"Its okay, Mike. I've decided to let _her_ come to _me._ If its meant to happen, it will. I don't want to... force anything." Davy cringed inside as he realized Mike didn't even know Davy wasn't talking about a girl, but _Peter, _of all people. If Davy were to tell him, he doubted Mike would even believe him. Mike would think he was joking around. Oh, how Davy _wished_ it were a joke! The way life used to be... so simple- just going out there on the beach and having his choice of chicks. But for some reason, Peter had a hold on him, and Davy couldn't break free. Interestingly enough, he had no desire to break free anyway. Like a wild horse that has been domesticated and no longer yearns for his freedom. His feelings about it were still ambivalent, but Peter holding him captive was strangely somehow fine with him.

What an inconvenience that he had to wank so often, with Peter so close by. And it wasn't easy to get away with it. Although he suspected Peter was doing the same. He'd heard what he was pretty sure were muffled moans coming from Peter's bed some nights. If only he could feel it again for a girl-but there was no desire there. The only yearning Davy felt was for Peter. And the clutches of that yearning remained static. Rock solid. In the beginning, he'd thought it would run its course and then scatter into the wind, to ultimately be but a memory. But to his amazement, Peter only became more appealing to him as time went on.

Meanwhile, Peter couldn't stop thinking of the kisses and sweet moments they had shared in his bed. He longed for more of that. Desperately. But not wanting to get hurt- be abandoned by Davy, he kept his guard up.

It wasn't that easy though, or that simple.

Peter had frequent dreams which he couldn't ignore, and which easily knocked down the barriers he'd erected. Those barriers must have been built half-ass. He must not have constructed them solidly enough. They certainly weren't anything the little Englishman couldn't break through. The dreams involved passionate make-out sessions with Davy. And even in his waking hours, he never got a hankering for anyone but Davy anymore. He had to fight to keep himself from slipping into fantasies. It was starting to make him feel uneasy, on edge. It was starting to take over his life.

A few words kept haunting Davy, lingering in the back of his mind. _Too many reasons._ Would Peter ever come to him with those reasons? Peter "played for keeps." Davy was astute, and had picked up on how important that was to Peter. That was likely the primary reason Peter was steering clear of him romantically. But could Davy make a promise like that? He had to be _sure_, before he made any announcement to Peter. He would never hurt Peter, and right now, he couldn't promise Peter that he wouldn't. He wondered if time would give him any answers.

The gig was a big success. The patrons obviously loved the band, and Peter and Davy acted just as they always had. Animated, full of smiles, and jovial. No one messed up. Or at least not badly enough for most club goers to notice. The owner of the club was pleased, and wanted a contract -every Saturday night for a month. The pay was quite a bit more than they usually got, and the deal was sealed. If things continued to go well, the owner stated the contract would possibly be extended.

The club closed at 2am, so, after signing the contract, they didn't get home until nearly 3. They agreed they would sleep in for as long as they wanted. They figured they deserved it. There were lots of pats on the backs going around.

"Man, I'm pooped!" exclaimed Peter as he and Davy got ready for bed.

"Me too. I can't believe we got a contract out of it!"

"Did you see how many people were dancing? The dance floor was never empty all night!" Peter was so pleased, his cheeks were pink and he was nowhere near sleepy yet.

"I'm keyed up," he said.

"Yeah, so am I. Its hard to just go to sleep after a nice jolt like that. It was far out."

"Wanna talk?"

"Sure."

Peter flicked off the light as he walked past it, fearing Davy would see the high color that he was sure was showing on his face, or the nervousness in his mannerisms, the way his hands shook. He'd been thinking about this all night-coming home and into the bedroom with Davy. _All alone_. Although not completely dark, perhaps Davy wouldn't notice how much anxiety Peter was feeling. But no guarantee on that-knowing Davy's intuition and highly tuned senses... They stood by the window together, both jubilant about the contract, but both also edgy. Davy wondering why Peter had turned the light off, and Peter wondering how he was going to express his feelings without sounding like a blubbering idiot.

"Might as well just tell you... I've been having lots of dreams lately," Peter blurted out, then stopped and waited for Davy's response.

There was an instant gleam of cautious interest in Davy's dark eyes.

"Oh? And what are they about?"

"To answer you the way you answered me the other night, simply... you."

Davy's stomach and heart did a flip-flop at the same time. It wasn't altogether pleasant.

_Shock. _

Peter was clearly tense, but Davy got the feeling the dreams hadn't caused it. Something was lurking in the atmosphere around them. Instinctively, Davy knew the dreams were good. Very good. And that both scared him and thrilled him. The two emotions blended together felt horrid and fantastic. But which emotion was stronger, Davy couldn't have said.

"More information needed, babe. Were they pleasant?"

Peter immediately started to clear his throat, fidget and look down at the floor. That's when Davy knew, for certain, the nature of the dreams.

_What am I waiting for? _ Peter wanted to tell Davy about his dreams, but he was mortified at even the thought of doing so. But this evening at the club, feeling so close to Davy, so warm inside, so familiar with his bandmate, the success of the evening- and now that they'd gotten home, standing here under the full moonlight from half-open drapes, Peter suddenly realized that maybe he _wanted _to take that risk that Davy had talked about. _Sometimes we have to take risks in life._ Or something along those lines. Wouldn't you know it would be a full moon? Peter wondered if he would have had these same thoughts if there _hadn't _been a full moon. But he already knew the answer. _Yes._

To his horror, he found himself laying his hand on Davy's shoulder. No particular reason except that he wanted, needed to touch him. _Had to touch him_. Or he felt he'd go out of his mind.

Davy didn't say a word. He just accepted Peter's hand, and might have edged just a fraction of an inch closer to Peter, although through all his anxiety, Peter couldn't be sure.

To hell with being afraid of Davy hurting him, leaving him, rejecting him for a girl! He deliberately took a step closer to Davy's side, now just inches away. It cost him dearly, for his heart was thumping atrociously and his throat felt constricted.

Davy wasn't blind-he knew Peter was showing him affection, yet was dubious about doing anything more than touching his shoulder. But... Davy told himself-he'd vowed that Peter would come to _him,_ not the other way around. So Peter would have to do better than that...that is, if he _really _wanted Davy.

Nevertheless, the hand on Davy's shoulder was as welcome as the warm summer days that stretched out ahead of them. As warm as the sunshine Peter naturally seemed to emit. He felt Peter's slightest move, his every breath. All his senses were on high alert-even the hairs on his arms stood up in anticipation_. Goose bumps._

It was as if someone had flipped the pause switch on the world. It was that deathly quiet in the room. All that could be heard was their breathing. Everything had come to a dead stop, and they stood there, side by side, Peter's hand on Davy's shoulder, not saying a word, both paralyzed by the intensity of the grip this _thing_ had on them. This unknown thing that was putting Davy and Peter into a tail spin.

The hand silently moved from Davy's shoulder to the back of his neck, brushing against his hair, on past to the other shoulder where it cupped his upper arm, applying pressure-gently coaxing Davy to close the final few inches between them.

This was a bold, daring move on Peter's part; Davy appreciated that. And as small a thing as it seemed, he knew it had taken some major guts for the very shy Peter to accomplish it.

Davy turned his head, and his eyes sparkled in the moonlight. He almost knocked Peter to his knees with his beauty. Peter turned; Davy followed suit so that they stood face to face. Peter struggled to gather the courage to tell Davy he was willing to take a chance of getting hurt, but he couldn't seem to form words.

Instead, he put both hands on Davy's shoulders and massaged lightly, smiling down at Davy, waiting for a cue, a certain look, some kind of indication that he should proceed. Although _how _he'd proceed, he didn't know. He suddenly felt very alone, forlorn. What was he supposed to do? He'd had limited experience with women, and absolutely none with men. He felt as if he were floundering about, wanting, needing, inhibited to the point to where he just couldn't advance.

Davy, like the knight in shining armor that he was, smoothly took over. He slipped his arms around Peter's waist, resting his head on Peter's chest. Peter's arms immediately wrapped around Davy's shoulders, and he dipped his head and rested it against the side of Davy's face.

Peter had taken a giant step tonight, and Davy was seized with hope. Of course he couldn't be absolutely certain, but he believed Peter was making a silent statement.

It seemed to Peter that needing Davy was more important than breathing right now. What he wanted more than anything was just to hold Davy close, breathe in his baby powder scent, run his fingers over those perfect, full lips. Stare into his eyes. Eventually undress him so he could slowly expose his skin-see that perfect body... _all of it. _ Touch him tenderly, kiss him with nothing held back. Explore him-find out what he liked, and then give him an abundance of it.

But for now, just standing here like this was enduring and timeless. A swatch of Heaven.

"Pete, come 'ere." Davy's voice was silky and soothing, with an undertone of undeniable passion that escaped without suppression. Peter heard the promise in it.

_He wanted that passion._

Peter leaned his torso back just a hair to look down at Davy, questing...

"I'm here, babe."

Davy looked up, and the next thing Peter knew, Davy's lips were on his. The thrumming in Peter's veins resounded like the thunder after lightning strikes. Davy was the lightning bolt. A brilliant flash amongst storm clouds. Breaking through, shining through. He always did.

The kiss started out very slowly, but quickly became ravenous, scorching Peter until he thought he'd erupt from the sheer intensity of it. Davy was clearly starving for him, and Peter admired him for exercising so much control for so long. Peter was enthralled, unable to contain himself, and he slid his hand up to the front of Davy's neck, cupping his hand around it tenderly. A very vulnerable area. Davy didn't even flinch. Peter sensed nothing but ease and passion in Davy. Davy's trust in Peter was complete.

Peter caressed his neck as they kissed, and Davy was so carried away with passion that, when they finally broke the kiss, he panted, "I'm losing myself, Pete."

"It's alright-I'm here to catch you."

"That's not what I mean. I'm losing myself in you." Davy's words came out breathy. "I know you play for keeps, and I don't want anyone else but you."

Peter's face lit up. His heart caught in a spasm of elation. _It was happening. _ This was indeed what he had agonized over, and hoped for. He could hardly believe he was finally hearing those words he'd longed to hear from his best friend. And he was going to do his damndest to give Davy complete happiness and fulfillment, no matter what it took. For the moment, though, he gave himself up to Davy's staggering kisses...


	10. Chapter 10

Plump, juicy. _Davy's lips. _Soft and yielding, and every bit as sweet as they looked. And his kisses... well, no wonder so many girls had grieved the way they did when Davy moved on to someone else. Davy kissed like he danced, with a style that was uniquely his. Hell, Davy was stylish _every way and everywhere, _thought Peter, not just when dancing or kissing. He knew how to work it.

At the peak of velocity on a roller coaster ride-that's the feeling Peter had in the pit of his stomach. Or perhaps when riding a very fast, spirited horse. Exhilarated. So he returned Davy's passion with his very own brand. And it wasn't something you could take lightly. Honestly, Davy should have been warned. He was coaxing out the animal in Peter, and it was about to emerge.

_Good god,_ thought Davy. He was kissing Peter more passionately than he had kissed anyone else in his life, and Peter was not only matching him kiss for kiss, but eclipsing him. Davy wondered if Peter might swallow him whole. And the moaning and and low growling sounds coming from Peter made the experience wildly sensual.

Peter kissed kind of like how he played his bass-with aggressive tenderness. Davy realized Peter wasn't just fooling around; he was throwing everything he had into it, and then some.

_Peter was devouring him._

The kiss deepened yet more, and Peter began to encourage Davy to let go completely. There was a tiny bit of Davy that was being held back, and that wouldn't do. Peter wanted _all _of him. This was a take-no-prisoners scenario. Ruthless.

"Open your mouth more, David," he breathed against Davy's lips. "Give it it up-everything... to me."

Those words let loose a torrent of torturous desire in Davy. They were the sexiest words he'd heard in a long while.

"Let go," murmured Peter.

Davy hadn't been overly aggressive with french kissing girls. He'd done a fair bit of experimenting, and some liked it, but many of them only liked it when they were right on the verge of making love. Some didn't like it even then. So he'd been prudent with his tongue. Peter, however, was a different story. He wanted it all, and he was demanding. There were no words that could describe how that turned Davy on. He gladly gave in to Peter, opening his mouth to Peter's satisfaction, and allowing him entry.

Peter was gentle, yet thorough. He explored the inside of Davy's mouth, rubbing his tongue against Davy's, and then sucking at it avidly. Davy got the hidden meaning in this-or at least he thought he did, and he felt his stomach tighten into a hard ball of anticipation. Every time Peter sucked, Davy felt his swollen cock twitch and jerk. God, it was wicked.

After a few minutes, Davy mustered up the courage to suck Peter's tongue, and then it was as if he'd uncaged a tiger. It seemed that Peter went mad, out of his mind, and Davy got a glimpse of what Peter would be like to have sex with. Peter held him down with firm hands on his shoulders, and ravaged his mouth. Davy found himself moaning uncontrollably-something that had never happened before. He hadn't thought himself capable of this kind of passion. But Peter was effortlessly bringing it all to the fore.

When their mouths finally broke apart, they found themselves flopping down on the bed, both panting like spent race horses. When Davy could finally catch his breath enough to talk again, he said, "And I thought the first time was intense!"

"There's a lot more where that came from," Peter said, his voice soft, serious and husky, sensuality just dripping off his tongue, and Davy didn't doubt him for a second. "Want to continue?"

_Did Davy want to continue? Was that a question that even needed asking?_

Davy gasped to himself. Wow, this was a Peter Davy hadn't known existed! He had turned from a shy, bashful, easy going guy into a sex machine! And the funny part of it was, they'd done nothing more than kiss! Davy could only imagine what Peter would be like... intimately. And he had to admit to himself that it was not only an exciting thought, but also a bit unnerving.

Peter was over him the instant Davy rolled onto his back to make himself accessible. Moans, tongues, all the while rolling over and over on the bed, emerged in their lust, until Davy feared they'd fall off. But Peter somehow kept them balanced, and Davy found himself starting to unbutton Peter's shirt. It was that easy. His fingers simply released the buttons without a conscious thought of what he was doing. The lust was driving him.

There was a feeling of a thick, rolling fog, a dream-like atmosphere engulfing Peter. This was way beyond anything either of them had expected. Better than any pot Peter had ever smoked. Way better. Their chemistry seemed to be perfectly aligned. Peter was so glad he hadn't had to reject Davy. Quite the opposite. If anything, he was even _more _eager for this than Davy. And that was saying a lot, since Davy was nearly at the summit of his ardor. His flushed cheeks told Peter his true feelings better than any words could have.

The warm skin was now exposed, just for Davy's fingers. Peter's chest. In all its glory. He ran his fingers through the hair there that was strangely both soft and coarse. Peter grunted at the pleasure that was coursing through him. Davy's touch would be his undoing-he already knew that instinctively.

Davy's hand strayed to Peter's flat abdomen, lightly tickling along the way. At the same time he rubbed his cheek along the stubble on Peter's cheek, enjoying the rough, sand paper feel on his skin.

Peter inhaled sharply as Davy's hand slid over his chest. It felt too damn good. He mentally steeled himself for even more pleasure. Davy was working his way down from Peter's mouth, to his neck, and now… to his chest. He rooted around, found a nipple and licked it, staying alert to Peter's reaction. When Peter shifted and groaned, Davy sucked it.

"Oh my god, David… "

The more Davy sucked, the more brazen Peter started to feel. The tingly, _needy _feeling traveled straight down to his cock. Made it spasm. What Davy was doing with his mouth was making Peter want to slide his hand down… and grab onto Davy's cock. He wanted to feel it in his hand… stroke it. Feel it pulsate under his touch. But fear held him back. Fear of rejection again. But he had to let Davy know how he felt…let him know he was receptive; well, way beyond merely _receptive._

It was just that... he'd never touched another man sexually. He was frightened.

When Davy's tongue started working Peter's other nipple, it was just too much for Peter to bear. His hand slid down insidiously, feeling Davy tense with the shock of it. Peter's hand wasn't there yet, but it was within a couple of inches. Every muscle in Davy seemed to vibrate. Peter drew out the suspense a few seconds longer.

At last, his hand closed around Davy's cock, through his underwear. "Ahhhh!" Davy cried softly.

Wow, that cock was completely erect, and so hard it felt like steel with a velvet soft covering. Peter couldn't believe he held a cock in his hand! Never in his wildest dreams…

He began to stroke it, and Davy involuntarily lifted his hips from the bed, silently begging him to continue. Peter knew how he stroked his own cock, so he did the same to Davy that he did to himself when wanking (Davy's term for masturbating, something Peter thought was charming). Evidentally he was doing something right, as Davy panted, rolled onto his side, facing Peter and gripped Peter's upper arms. The next thing Peter knew Davy was thrusting into his hand. Davy was trying to talk, but struggling with the words.

"Pete, be careful. I'm gonna… come if you… don't stop…"

Peter stopped momentarily, to allow Davy to recover enough so he could continue. But he didn't want to just give Davy a hand job—he wanted more than that. The thoughts swirling around in Peter's head were disturbing and disconcerting. Yet sinfully delightful. He had to-had to experience this- in case this was the last chance he ever got.

Surrendering to his desire, voice low and uttering soothing nonsense to Davy as if he were a skittish animal, holding him as close as possible, Peter then dove head first into Davy's crotch, impatiently removing his underwear, and took the head of Davy's cock into his mouth. _Nice-so very nice. _

He had just started to lick and suck in preparation to engulf it completely when Davy cried out, _loudly, _then bucked like a bronco_. _In the next second, Davy came. It caught Peter by surprise, even though he'd been warned. The warm liquid filling his mouth was not something he'd planned on. Maybe eventually, but not the _first time._ It shocked him beyond belief that he found he loved it. He swallowed it all, savored it, then sucked Davy dry, licking the tip afterward. The act of swallowing Davy's semen excited him more than he'd thought possible. The entire while, Davy kept up his relentless audio. It almost sounded like a haunted house, mused Peter to himself. But did he give a damn? _No._ Let the entire world hear-it made no difference to him.

As Davy's cock softened a bit, Peter, although he didn't want to, finally stopped licking when Davy jerked slightly from the sensitivity, and then he slid back up Davy's body, to be welcomed with Davy's open arms. They held each other, neither one wanting to break the silence.

A little later, Davy spoke up. "Mate, you shocked the hell outta me. And to think... _I _was the one after _you._ And you said you were completely straight!"

"You've created a monster, babe." Peter smiled.

"Gotta admit, I never suspected that kind of passion was in you. Should have known though. Your passion for fun and life is there, so why wouldn't it be there in bed with me? We've been attracted to each other ... for a long time."

"Yeah, and we didn't even know it. Well, you knew it... before I did."

"You don't look different, but you have changed..."

"Hey," said Peter. "That sounded familiar!"

Davy shrugged. "Yeah, it did, didn't it?

"And yeah, I've changed. A lot...In a _very _short period of time."

Peter heard Davy's deep breath, and knew something was coming. "And now... Peter, I need you."

"David, just remember to relax and _let go..." _Peter whispered this into Davy's ear.

Davy's heart leapt up into his throat. A sort of panic gripped his senses. He hadn't had any experience with guys. But neither had Peter. He wasn't alone in this. Peter would be there for him, as he always was. He could count on Peter to help him if he needed it. And Peter wouldn't laugh at him-he'd support him.

Peter wasn't sure what Davy meant when he'd said he needed him, but he soon found out. Tentatively, Davy ran his hand up and down Peter's stomach, barely skirting the hair below Peter's navel, toying sweetly with him.

In reality, Davy didn't mean to tantalize Peter quite so much. Its just that he was so nervous...perhaps he just needed a bit more time, he told himself.

Peter, hardly able to tolerate the teasing, rubbed up against Davy almost against his will. Davy's cock, which was almost completely hard again now, made contact with Peter's and they both gasped. From there, things happened naturally. Neither one knew exactly what to do, so they began to rub against each other.

It was too much for Peter. Davy had gotten him so worked up that his climax was right at the doorstep. Any plans of Davy's were gone in an instant when Peter suddenly started to thrust savagely, making more noise than an actor in a porn film.

Peter came hard and long, spurting copiously all over Davy's belly. Davy didn't mind at bit. He clutched at Peter, hugging him close and nuzzling his neck as Peter slowly came down from his fit of ecstasy. Peter shivered at the sensation of Davy's lips on his neck.

A few minutes later they pulled free- as they were stuck together with sweat and semen. It was a royal mess, and Davy decided that laughing would be the best way to ease the embarrassment.

"Sorry it happened so fast..." Peter trailed off.

"Don't worry about it. I didn't last any longer meself."

"Next time... that is... if you want a next time... I'll last longer." Peter felt the flush of crimson rushing up his neck.

In a way, Davy was disappointed that it was already over. But at the same time, he was relieved. Now that it came down to it, he just didn't know if he could do it...

"Don't worry, Peter. We'll make up for it next time."

They slept together, not wanting to leave each other's arms. In the morning, Peter woke Davy by tickling him. Not persistently, like Mike and Micky, but softly, tenderly along his ribcage.

"You are being a saucy arse!" said Davy. "Doncha forget I'm a dodgy Manc, and I'll getcha back!"

Peter stopped tickling long enough to say, "I didn't understand half of what you just said."

"Let's just say, when you least expect it, you'll get what you deserve for waking me up that way. Payback's a bitch."

Peter smiled as he recalled he'd been the one to teach Davy that American expression.

Both Peter and Davy were horny as hell this morning, but neither of them mentioned it, knowing they didn't have much time to get ready for practice.

And Davy was relieved in a way, because he was still nervous as hell about pleasuring Peter...he wondered if he'd be able to go through with it.


	11. Chapter 11

"Steve's having a party Saturday night," announced Micky after practice. "Supposed to be lots of groovy girls there." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Davy and Peter were silent briefly, before snapping out of it and realizing they should be acting excited.

"Neat," managed Peter.

Davy tried his damndest to look interested. He was still astonished that the thought of girls held no appeal for him. How could it have left so quickly? Even though, he was petrified of being alone with Peter. What a mess he'd gotten himself into.

"I'll be there!" said Davy. "Wouldn't miss it." The only consolation was this was only Monday, and he had five days to get used to the idea.

Peter sliced a glance in Davy's direction, trying to get a feel for what was going through the Englishman's mind, but Davy's face was stoically revealing nothing.

Mike was excited, although you couldn't really tell because of his usual reserved demeanor. But the boys knew him well enough to know he would be there. He didn't care for large groups, instead preferring to find a girl he liked, and find a quiet corner to talk. That was his style, but it had never been Davy's. He was usually in the center of a bunch of girls, whether he wanted to be or not. The girls just appeared wherever he was. In the past, he'd loved the female attention, ate it right up, but right now the thought of female attention wasn't the least bit appealing. Peter was almost painfully shy with girls, even having to be coaxed in order to go over and talk to one.

As for Micky, he was the life of the party. Always entertaining everyone in any manner he could think of, whether that be making funny faces, doing silly dances or telling jokes. Sometimes he even jumped on the furniture. He'd learned to take his shoes off though. If you wanted your party to be a success, inviting Micky was mandatory.

Davy dreaded bedtime. He wanted to be close to Peter-share with him the desire Peter had shown for him. Make love to Peter the way Peter had loved him last night. But a cold claminess overcame him every time he thought of actually _doing it..._

Yes, he wanted to taste Peter-make Peter feel the way Peter had made him feel. Give in to it, _let go, i_n Peter's words. But what if he found that he just couldn't? The reluctance was hard and unyielding. What if he had to pull away? There would be no graceful way out of it. And much more importantly, no way to avoid hurting Peter.

_Jones, you need to man up here and decide what you want! You know what it's like to suffer from wanting someone. Now don't do the same thing to Peter! You're the one who started this whole thing after all!_

It was ironic-here he finally had what he'd been yearning for for so long, and now he didn't think he could ever follow up on it. It bugged the shit out of him and made him furious with himself. And now he had an upcoming party on his shoulders as well...not liking girls, wanting Peter. Oh, what a fun party _that _would be, he thought sarcastically to himself.

Peter sensed Davy's agitation as bedtime approached. He didn't know whether Davy was just nervous, or had decided this thing between them hadn't been such a good idea after all. Peter though, being the patient, considerate being he was, would just wait until Davy came to grips with himself. Peter might have approached him about it, just to reassure him, but he couldn't think of the right words to say. How do you articulate something like that? _I loved what happened last night, and I sense you are conflicted about it, but don't worry, I'll be supportive in whatever you decide? _ Goofy! No, it was best if he didn't say anything at all.

Davy was Peter's best friend, and it didn't matter to Peter if they didn't have sex, or even if they never kissed or even touched again. It would be difficult, but he'd accept that if that was what Davy wanted. Their friendship would always come first.

Peter's body language spoke volumes as they dressed for bed. He was tense and clumsy. He was extra careful with what came out of his mouth, making no references to the night before, and acting as casual as he could. As if nothing had ever happened between them.

Davy avoided looking at him, but out of the corner of his eye, noticed Peter slipped underwear on, as he usually did for bed. He always said it was in case of a fire. With a deep sigh, Davy kept his on. If Peter had omitted the underwear, Davy would have secretly been on the edge of panic. They went to their respective beds, both wanting to discuss it, but no one had the courage to bring the subject up. So they climbed into bed and the light went out, leaving two very aroused guys alone and very restless in their own beds.

A couple of days went by, and Peter and Davy never alluded to what had happened between them. Peter kept getting vibes off Davy, telling him he'd better back off and give Davy space and time. It was funny how this was evolving-_Davy_ had been the one with a crush on Peter, and now it was _Peter _who was unbearably eager to further explore their mutual attraction. Peter honored Davy's vibes though, and backed off completely.

Before long, Peter started getting these disconcerting, cryptic looks from Davy that he couldn't decode. He felt Davy's eyes on him frequently, but when he'd turn his head in Davy's direction, Davy would quickly look away. So quickly that Peter wouldn't have seen it at all if Davy's hair hadn't swung with the motion.

And Peter did notice that hungrily-the fact that Davy's hair was a little longer than normal. He liked it that way. It went a couple inches over his collar-almost to his shoulders. That Edwardian look. _Hot._

A couple more days, and Davy was allowing his gaze to linger a little longer, and Peter, as shy as he was, forced himself to return the looks. He wanted Davy to know he was still serious, still wanted him. It took all Peter had, but he didn't look away. It was no easy feat, as Davy could throw some serious looks when he wanted to. Looks that could make you melt inside, or wilt-depending on the particular look. It floored Peter to realize his cock was stiffening from these stares they shared. Not a single physical touch between them-in fact, from 10 or even 20 feet or more away, Davy could meet his eyes and Peter would feel the desire burning from his crotch all the way down into his toes.

Sometimes the stares would last as long as a couple of minutes, and if Mike or Micky, or both, were in the room, it didn't seem to matter to Davy. These looks were _hard core._ Good or bad, Peter just wished to God he knew what they meant.

On the Friday night before the party, both were sitting on the couch. Peter and Mike were in the kitchen, trying to think up something to fix for dinner. Peter's cream of root beer hadn't been very satisfying or filling, so they were thinking of trying something like mustard soup. With crackers, it might not be so bad.

Peter felt those dark, relentless eyes on him again. They were sitting about 3 feet apart. Peter turned his head to see Davy concentrating, apparently attempting to see into Peter's soul. Peter returned the gaze, and casually stretched his arm that was closest to Davy over the back of the couch, his hand almost, but not quite, reaching Davy. He lacked a couple of inches. Davy didn't move his head, but his eyes shifted to Peter's hand. Peter grinned. It was an impish grin, and Peter had no idea what it did to Davy.

Davy felt his cheeks flush hot and pink, felt his crotch tighten. He got that "tingly" feeling that Peter had spoken of. Yes, in his cock, but also in his heart.

The party was indeed chock full of attractive girls, as Micky had stated. Blondes, brunettes, redheads, short, tall, skinny and voluptuous. Something for everyone... except Davy and Peter.

It didn't take long. Only minutes after they'd arrived at the party, Peter spied Davy, as usual, in the center of a rolling sea of girls. At least it seemed that way. Maybe it was an exaggeration to say a rolling sea, but there were at least eight or ten, not counting the ones on the sidelines watching, but too bashful to approach. Mike was scouting around for a promising female companion to talk to, and Micky, who hadn't even had anything alcoholic to drink yet, was burning off excess energy by imitating an inch worm on the floor, much to the delight of his mostly female audience.

Peter sat alone, not talking to anyone. He didn't feel comfortable, but didn't want Davy to see his dilemma, so he went to the bathroom to kill some time. He splashed cold water on his face and looked into the mirror, combing his hair yet again, hoping he looked decent enough for Davy.

Davy saw Peter come out of the restroom. Man, but he looked scrumptious! Davy took in the dark blue velour pullover sweater and snuggly fitting pants, sans underwear as usual, along with the stylish boots Peter had saved for for many months. The sideways belt buckle, as always. _Sharp._ _Unique. Mouth watering._

The click of Peter's boot heels on the linoleum floor before he hit the carpet. The sound reverberated in Davy. Even _that_ turned Davy on. Sexy as all hell.

He also couldn't help but notice Peter sitting alone, looking very stiff and ill at ease. As if he were out of place. Davy swam through the sea of girls to get to Peter. A couple of them grabbed onto his arm as if to hold him back. Others tried to start a conversation with him, and still others deliberately stood in front of him to stop his progress, pretending that they didn't know they were blocking him.

He finally got around them and sat down next to Peter. Peter's eyes took in every inch of him, trying not to be overly obvious. He'd seen Davy navigating toward him, and his heart had started thudding immediately. Davy was wearing a pullover sweater too, but his was white, and it showed off his shiny dark hair to perfection. And the blue pants showed Davy's butt off all too well. Peter had noticed that well before they'd even left the Pad to come to the party. Davy had the nicest butt on the planet. Peter thought about sinking his teeth into it. Playfully, of course.

"You were staring me down from across the room," said Peter.

"I saw you alone over here, and the girls are giving me fits."

"Thanks for coming over, man."

"I wanted to." Davy's blunt statement made Peter feel special.

Peter smiled at Davy, and his dimple went into action. Wrong move. Peter, still being oblivious to the appeal of his dimple, was startled when a girl squealed from not three feet away.

"Did you see that? Just _look _at his dimple!" She'd tried to say it quietly to her friend, but it reached Peter's ears as well as Davy's and a few other girls in the immediate vicinity. Suddenly, half a dozen girls were staring at Peter and his dimple.

One girl whispered into another's ear- something like "look how cute that quiet, shy guy is!" Comments flitted around like lightning, and before Peter and Davy knew it, one girl was perched on either of the couch's arms and two had squeezed in between them, all straining to catch another glimpse of Peter's dimple.

Peter threw Davy a dazed, questioning look.

"For Christ's sake, Peter! Don't you see what's happening? Scowl or something!" Davy leaned over a girl, whispering in his ear, making Peter get those pesky goose bumps _again._

Well, Davy had a lot more experience with women than Peter did, so he must know what he was talking about, reasoned Peter. He stopped smiling immediately and performed the best scowl he could manage at the nearest girl. All she did was giggle. And snuggle closer to him.

_Oh shit,_ thought Davy. Now she's hooked, and Peter'll have a hell of a time getting away from her without being rude. And anyone who was acquainted with Peter knew that asking him to be rude would be a hopeless endeavor. Davy quickly wracked his brain for some way out of this.

"Oops! Time to go!" Davy got up abruptly, grabbing Peter's sleeve.

"But the party just started!" one of the girls whined.

Davy sidled in close to the girl who had commented, saying in a low voice only she could hear, "Peter and I are going to get a beer. _Together."_ He wiggled his eyebrows expressively, much the same way Micky had when telling them about the party, took Peter's arm and eased him smoothly toward the beer keg. There was no way in this world the girl could not have understood what Davy had implied. Davy also knew that the girl would spread the word in about 10 seconds flat.

Wow, but Davy was a smooth operator! Peter marveled at the magic Davy had just generated. He'd gotten them away, but still, Davy had said something softly in that girl's ear.

"What did you say to her?" asked Peter, jealousy stabbing at him, even as he tried to push it away. He'd seen Davy leaning in close to her, and it had instantly concerned him.

"Let's just say I hinted _strongly_ about our sexuality." Davy wiggled his eyebrows yet again, but this time directly at Peter.

Relief flooded through Peter like cool, refreshing water. He'd never heard more beautiful words. How thoughtful of Davy to get him out of that sticky situation. And even _more _thoughtful of him to imply to a perfect stranger that he and Peter had something going on! It made Peter feel strangely proud that Davy was acting possessive of him, even if it had just been to rescue him. He smiled, not knowing what else he should do for the moment.

Davy's deed worked. The girls didn't approach them again. What's more, Davy made sure that no girls who _hadn't_ heard the news bothered them either. He stood very close to Peter-closer than if they had just been friends. He also gave Peter his sole attention, touching him frequently on the arm, and practicing that wonderful stare into Peter's eyes. Anyone looking on would assume they were lovers. Peter didn't have to put any effort into returning all the attention Davy was showering on him. It just happened.

Peter was truly amazed. He'd sensed that Davy had been scared out of his wits at the thought of intimacy with him, yet here he was, at a party no less, with eyes only for Peter, and apparently not the least bit shy about it either.

Mike had found a young lady and had her engaged in an animated conversation, and Micky was vying for the attention of three or four girls simultaneously. So, at least for now, neither of them noticed how semi-obvious Davy was being about putting on a show of seducing their fellow bandmate. If they _had_ seen it, they wouldn't have been able to believe their eyes.

Davy didn't think anything was going to happen with Peter, as he was still scared stiff of certain sexual thoughts, but he could flirt with him here and save them both from girls, since it was pretty obvious girls just weren't in the picture anymore for either one of them. He could kiss Peter later, and enjoy the hell out of it, but as far as sex went... well, it would unfortunately have to be a one-way street. If Peter still wanted him, and he was pretty sure he did, then he _might_ be able to give Peter some loving relief with his hand, but that would have to be the extent of it. He desired Peter as much as he had weeks, months ago. But he just couldn't go through with... _certain _things. Even as Davy realized how selfish he was being, the simple fact was, he just couldn't help it.

They stood there talking casually, drinking beer and just enjoying each other's company. Mike and Micky would occasionally check in, asking why Davy and Peter weren't mingling with the girls.

"There's a rumor going 'round, you know," said Davy.

"What's that?" asked Mike.

"That we're gay. I told some girls we were to get them off our backs." Davy told Mike this to soften the blow when Mike heard it from someone at the party, which would surely happen sooner or later. They had friends there, and Mike and Micky would need to snuff out the rumor.

Mike laughed softly. "You gotta do what you gotta do when you're that irresistible," he said and walked back to his female companion with a smile on his face. He was well accustomed to the stares and _oohs _and _ahhhs_ every time he went anywhere with Davy. He guessed sometimes an adorable fellow just needed a break!

Peter and Davy talked and sipped beer until they'd had three each, and Davy decided it was time to stop before he got tipsy. Davy didn't want to take any chances. Remembering the day in the park, he was uncomfortably aware that alcohol would make him even more horny for Peter than he already was.

They ended up leaving the party early. Very early. Mike and Micky were stunned.

"Why are you leaving before ten with all the groovy chicks here? Are you insane?" asked Micky.

"Just not feelin' it tonight," offered Davy. Not a good excuse, but he didn't know what else to say.

"And I'm too shy to stay here without David," said Peter.

Micky shrugged. "Oh well. That just leaves more for me and Mike," he said, giving Mike an evil conspiratory look. "I hate it when you take all the girls away from me anyway." And with that, Micky went back to his audience to do more entertaining. Mike went back to his young lady sitting on the couch, waiting patiently for him.

They bypassed the Monkeemobile in the parking lot.

"Why don't we just drive home?" said Peter.

"Pete-think a minute. How would Mike and Micky get home? Besides, its less than a mile. We can walk home in no time."

"Okay," said Peter, just grateful to have an excuse to spend more time with Davy.

As they walked, Peter commented on the girls at the party. "Man, I don't see how you do it, David. Those girls were too much for me tonight, and you have to put up with it all the time."

Davy shrugged. "When you're interested in them, its fun," he said simply.

"Well I felt like I'd better run just as fast as I can, and hide my head in the sand."

The looked at each other, smiled and said, "That sounds familiar" in unison.

"You gotta learn to keep that dimple in check or you _will _end up like me," admonished Davy.

"With girls after me?"

Davy nodded. "Its lethal," he said. "The dimple, that is. It makes your stomach jump right up into your throat." Davy blushed, realizing he'd just admitted to Peter that his dimple affected _him_ in the same way.

Words suddenly poured out of Peter's mouth without his permission, before he could thwart them. "I have this tremendous urge," he said, then felt the heat climbing up his neck -embarrassment. His voice had been thick with desire, and he knew the quick Brit had not missed it.

"Go on mate, what is it?" Davy's pulse quickened before the words were hardly out of Peter's mouth. Peter was going to make a pass at him, and Davy was enticed, but there was still that trace of ambivalence. That fear...

As they stopped walking, Davy's eyes locked with Peter's, Davy saw the warmth there. Not just the lust. And something else too, something that didn't have a name.

"I need... I need... to kiss you."


	12. Chapter 12

Davy's knees started to quake. In fact, he was shaking all over. God, but he hoped Peter didn't notice.

Peter's eyes were serious, as serious as Davy had ever seen them. The amber/green shade had turned to brown, and Davy knew what that meant. Peter was experiencing some intense emotions.

Davy looked down coyly, almost Peter-like in his behavior. That's when he saw the enormous bulge of Peter's erection in his pants. He hadn't meant to look-it had just _been _there. And Davy's eyes had gravitated there because, how could they _not? _ Not a solitary physical touch had yet come about during their walk, yet Peter was fully aroused. Davy was enthralled. Mesmorized by the beauty of it. He had to struggle to pry his gaze way. A crow bar would have come in handy. When he looked up again, Peter was smiling knowingly and a bit shyly. _He'd caught him._

"That's what you do to me... a _lot," _said Peter. The tables had seemed to turn. Now _Peter_ seemed to be the more brazen one.

For fuck's sake, if Peter knew how terrified he was, after he'd pursued Peter like he'd done, he'd look like the biggest kind of fool.

And then the guilt started again. He'd led Peter on at the party, damn it! He'd started out only trying to get them away from the girls, but in the process he'd made Peter expectant. They'd left early too, even more fuel for Peter's hopes-hopes that were probably going to be dashed to crumbs.

Well, what harm could some making out do? It was selfish on his part, but Davy was starving for it. He also knew Peter would enjoy it, eat it up. He felt a pleasant warmth from the beer he'd consumed. Just enough to set that fire burning in his blood. That deep ache, that need for Peter. He _knew_ he should have only had two! But he'd had a third anyway, probably subconsciously giving himself an excuse to give into the lust he had for Peter.

The way he'd behaved at the party-a disgrace! Flirting shamelessly with Peter in front of a room full of about fifty people, many of them friends. And he couldn't even blame it on the beer-he'd started doing it before he'd even lifted one to his lips. Peter was some powerful stuff. If he were a drug, Davy would be a hopeless junkie by now. The bass player caused Davy to lose himself. He'd even told Peter so much not that long ago. How long had an oblivious Peter had Davy completely stuck on him, and he hadn't even had a clue of it?

Peter backed into a street light pole to steady himself for a moment. It wasn't the beer-it was Davy's nearness. It was heady and intoxicating. He felt his knees might collapse. Davy came into his arms before he could even think of what to say next.

"Shhhh..." Peter soothed with soft words, smoothing the top of Davy's head gently.

So... Peter could feel him shaking, thought Davy. Otherwise he wouldn't be making those sweet, comforting sounds.

"Its alright. You're the one in charge here...don't forget that... what you say goes." Peter smiled, even though Davy couldn't see it because his head was nestled between Peter's chest and neck.

"You're not scared are you? I feel you quivering ... I would never..." Peter trailed off.

"I'm not afraid of you...I trust you, you know that... I'm afraid of... the feelings."

A few seconds elapsed.

"Me too," Peter said nakedly. It was right out there in the open. Peter wasn't hiding a thing. He held Davy closely, but nothing about it was restrictive. Davy loved the way Peter had one arm around his shoulders, the other cradling the back of his head. Peter hugged him with all of his heart-there was nothing half-assed about it. Yet there were no demands either.

Peter's head swam with wanting, yearning. When Davy's hands pressed against the sides of his head and pulled it down for a kiss, Peter let the need wash over him. The kiss, like the others they'd shared, didn't disappoint. Knowing each other better now, they kissed as if they had already kissed a thousand times. There was much more confidence than there had been the first time, and that led to more desire. It just kept building...

After a series of kisses that seemed to have lasted days, Davy gasped.

"What's wrong, babe?" Peter twisted a bit, trying to ease the throbbing tightness in his pants.

"The gig! We're supposed to be there at 11! Remember?"

Peter's eyes went wide, and a loud "_Shit!" _escaped his lips.

"Oh my God. We _all _forgot," Davy was in a bad way, in a blind panic, and now so was Peter. They couldn't mess up with this gig. It was a huge opportunity for them.

They literally ran almost all the way to the Pad to call the club where the other two were. It was already nearly 10:30. It seemed like it took forever for Mike to finally take the phone after he'd been paged.

"Mother fucker! I _did_ forget. We all did! Okay, calm down, David. We still have time to get there. Mick and I'll come home now, we'll all change into our band clothes and head straight over there."

They barely made it by a quarter to eleven. The band that had opened was just leaving.

"Lucky for us he didn't want us here at nine," said Mike breathlessly as they jumped out of the Monkeemobile. "But from now on, or at least until we know if this contract will be extended, it's no more parties on Saturday nights!"

The owner of the club was trying the Monkees out for only three hours on Saturdays to see what the patron response would be. If he decided to extend the contract, the Monkees would have to be there every Saturday night by about 8:30.

"As it is we're gonna have to bust our asses to get set up in time to play," said Davy.

"Well, you don't have much to set up but some maracas and a tambourine!" complained Micky.

"I'll help you wherever I can, smart ass," was Davy's slightly annnoyed response. Peter smiled to himself. Davy didn't back down. He was fiesty, spicy. Peter liked that. At the same time Davy could always be counted on in a crisis. Even if someone were snarky to him.

Right now, they were hustling as fast as possible to get set up in time. Luckily, Mike and Micky hadn't had any more beer than Davy and Peter had. Mike had been too entranced with the young lady he was talking to to worry about keeping his styrofoam cup filled with beer. And Micky had been too busy trying to win the affections of at least one of the girls in his audience. They'd had to leave so quickly that all Mike could do was to scribble down the phone number of his very disappointed companion.

They started playing only seven minutes behind schedule—a miracle really. They told the owner a white lie about blowing a tire, and assured him it wouldn't happen again. He was soon mollified when he saw and heard them revving up the audience with Micky's antics, Peter's gyrations and dimpled smiles and Davy's fancy tambourine moves and dancing. Mike's appealing country rock songs were also a hit. They put in as much effort as they could to show the owner they were not only talented, but also serious and responsible. One thing was for certain—they'd _never _make _that _mistake again.

They had all been in such a hurry that Peter hadn't even had time to go to the bathroom to relieve his sexual tension. On stage, when Davy got too close to him he was glad his bass covered his arousal. If he weren't so big in that department, it might have been easier to conceal. But with Davy rarely more than three feet away from him when they were playing, he never had a chance to go completely soft. It was torture of the bittersweet kind.

By two o'clock the band was relieved to know that they'd lived up to the good reputation they'd started last weekend. They knew they'd been good. The crowd was even more enthusiastic than they'd been last week. As they were carrying the equipment out, the owner mentioned that if they did this well for the next two weekends, he would extend the contract for three months. Four very happy young men drove away.

"That was a close one—_too_ close," said Micky as they entered the Pad.

"Well, let it be a lesson to us all that we never forget. We could have lost the three month contract and a hell of a lot of money," was Mike's input.

Davy and Peter were thought of as the heroes since they'd remembered the gig.

"It was actually David who remembered," stated Peter. He wanted to give credit where credit was due.

Micky laid a hand on Davy's shoulder. "Sorry I was bitchy when we were setting up."

Davy nodded, patting Micky on the back. "Who wouldn't be bitchy when they've have to drag themselves away from romance?" Micky had no idea of the cryptic meaning behind his statement. Micky and Mike hadn't been the _only_ ones dragged away.

"I wanna party some more," said Micky. We weren't even at that party for two hours. I bet it'll go all night. Wanna go back, Mike?"

Mike thought for a moment, taking off his wool hat and examining it carefully for loose threads. But everyone knew it wasn't the hat that was on his mind.

"I wonder if that girl I was talking to is still there," he said softly, half to himself. "Her name is Katie," he said wistfully.

Micky jumped right on that. "She might be! Let's go back! Its worth a try!"

Within 10 minutes, they were out the door, leaving Davy and Peter alone.

Davy had been watching Peter, practically salivating. He was certain drool would run down his chin if he didn't keep his mouth closed. Remembering the glimpses he'd caught of Peter's excitement in his pants when Peter moved the bass a certain way, inadvertently revealing his hardness— Davy hoped the audience hadn't seen it too. He was deathly afraid some girl might snatch Peter away from him. Now he could scarcely believe he had him all to himself again. They even had the Pad all to themselves. Everything was aligned...

He thought for sure he'd burst as they climbed the stairs to their bedroom. His breath came in pants, his cock was rock hard with the memory of their deep kiss against the street light post. They'd had to abandon it so abruptly-damn! By the time they got into the bedroom, Davy couldn't take any more waiting. He'd already waited what seemed a lifetime.

All Peter knew was that one minute he was taking his shoes off in preparation for bed, and the next he was roughly shoved up against the wall. He didn't have time to say anything or even _think _anything as Davy practically attacked him.

Davy had had to endure Peter's nearness _way too long,_ and his hormones had kicked in all the way. He'd reached his limit. All the days and nights of yearning, and then the party tonight, finally getting away together, kissing under the street light, and then having to run home and go to a gig where he had to stand so close to Peter for three hours had exhausted his resistance. He'd had to wait an eternity, and he wasn't going to wait anymore.

The kiss was voracious. It started out hard and demanding, even desperate feeling, taking Peter's breath away with its intensity, then had softened gradually and Peter sighed with the pleasure of it. What romantic ability Davy had! Was there no _end _to this man's talent? Ravaging him, thrilling him, then gently, deeply slow kissing him. Their tongues explored each other's mouths. Peter didn't have to do any coaxing to get Davy to let him in tonight-that was for sure. Davy had remembered what Peter liked, and he opened his mouth willingly. No tightness or tension. No holding back. He was letting go, _just for Peter._

"That party really gave you a jump start, huh?" Peter gasped as their lips came apart some time later and Peter was able to find his voice. His knew he sounded tremulous and shaky. Yep, thought Davy. Its having a major effect on him too. Davy was still vibrating with need, and nothing was going to slow him down now. He'd been thinking about being alone with Peter ever since before the party. Straining at the bit.

"Looking at you... at the party..." was all Davy was able to squeeze out.

Davy let his inhibitions take a hike, even though they were almost nonexistant anyway, and dropped to his knees, leaned forward and cupped Peter's butt in his hands as he began to work his mouth and lips over the bulge in Peter's pants. It happened so fast-quicker than Peter could process. Davy felt a huge surge of sexual desire completely overtake him. He felt he was positively _drowning_ in desire.

_Holy shit!_ thought Peter. This was not expected. It shocked the hell out of him.

He realized then how crazed Davy really was for him. Gone was the Davy who wasn't sure about this! Peter gasped loudly and his hands naturally went to the back of Davy's head. Davy licked and nibbled through the fabric of Peter's tight pants, relishing the way Peter's erection jumped at every touch.

"Oh God," Peter crooned softly.

Davy had never felt like this in his life. He was finally feeling confident. _I could eat Peter alive,_ he thought to himself. And that's exactly what he intended to do.

They undressed silently. Peter had been standing, pinned against the wall with only one shoe on. But he didn't care. _What if he backs out now?_ Peter hated the thought, but he knew it was a possibility-a chance Peter would have to take.

They got into Peter's bed and Davy smoothly shimmied down Peter's body, the thought of having Peter's cock in his mouth overshadowing everything else. Davy's warm breath down on his lower abdomen made Peter's toes curl, his skin prickle. Peter waited, panting in anticipation. It finally came. He felt Davy's hot breath directly on his cock. Tickling it. Davy licked softly, his tongue barely making contact, then sucked the crown, remembering things Peter had said in the past. When the guys talked about making love to girls, being typical guys, they sometimes went into detail. Peter had once mentioned that he loved it when a girl sucked the head of his cock, as it was extra sensitive. At the time, Davy had taken it all in and filed it away. Now he was glad he had. He'd been attracted to Peter way back then, and time had done nothing but deepen that attraction. He wanted Peter to enjoy as much pleasure as he could give him.

The moaning and groaning started almost immediately. Peter was very vocal with his appreciation. Davy was busy licking the sides, licking inside the slit, and engulfing as much of Peter as he could. Peter was so large that he couldn't possibly take him all into his mouth, but he took as much as he could, moaning himself when Peter begged for more with his body movements. Davy was wary of touching himself or rubbing against anything for fear he'd combust.

When he felt Peter's balls drawing up ever tighter, Davy knew he was close, and he would back off for a couple of minutes, driving Peter stark raving mad at having the stimulation taken away.

"David, suck me...please," he begged. Then Davy would continue, only to back off again right before Peter was ready to climax. That's when Peter let loose of profanity almost as foul as Davy had when he'd tripped on Peter's shoe that night.

"I need to come...God, I want you. Davy baby, fuckin' suck it!"

A moment later, "Oh babe. David... yeah..."

Davy had relented and sucked for all he was worth, massaging Peter's balls, swirling his tongue around the tip, licking, until Peter exploded. Like Peter, Davy didn't pull away when Peter's orgasm came. He stayed and swallowed. He found he enjoyed it just as much as Peter had seemed to enjoy his ejaculate. Not a drop escaped him.

The moaning had reached a crescendo. Peter was now almost shouting. If Mike and Micky had had any suspicions at all, they were now confirmed forever more.

Peter's hands on the back of Davy's head kept him sucking as Peter thrilled to the last throes of his orgasm. "Urgh, urgh," Peter grunted, and was finally still, breathing hard and adoring the sensation of Davy's tongue and lips devouring the last of his seed.

That man knew no inhibitions, Davy realized then. Peter was nothing like a girl. No games, just straight, honest lust. His wanton behavior was so primal.

Afterwards, they lay side by side. When Peter's breathing had returned to normal, Davy brought the party up.

"I don't know what got into me... the way I... flirted with you...in front of everyone... at the party," he explained.

Peter didn't look the least concerned about it. "I kinda liked it," he said. "Made me a little proud," He blushed then. He pulled Davy to him. "So... I guess we're both finally on the same page? Took long enough." And then he kissed Davy with no reserve.


	13. Chapter 13

They lay there, holding each other silently. A couple of minutes went by, and Peter stirred. He was looking forward eagerly to the rest of the evening. He looked down at Davy, who's head was nestled on his chest, and heard his deep, rhythmic breathing. No... really? He was asleep!

Oh well... he'd had a hard day. Rather, a hard night. There'd been the party, then the gig, and they hadn't gotten home until almost 2:30. And then they'd had sex. The poor guy was just worn out.

Peter felt a pang of disappointment that he wouldn't be able to pleasure Davy tonight, make him writhe like Davy had done to him, but he didn't have the heart to wake him either. He'd plan something special for tomorrow. It was going to be an unforgettable Sunday. Peter had an erection again just from the contact of Davy's warm body. Peter cuddled him, pleased with the way Davy seemed to fit against his body.

Peter finally gave himself up to sleep, very happy and content to have Davy draped over him. It just felt _so right._

They awoke early-much _too_ early, to the tune of banging sounds downstairs. _Loud _banging sounds.

"Christ, its 6am!" exclaimed Davy, squinting at his watch. "And its Sunday! Is there no rest for the wicked?" he asked Peter.

Peter, who was still half asleep mumbled, "Apparently not."

Too sleepy and uninhibited to be embarrassed about the noise they'd made last night, Peter padded down the stairs to find Mike and Micky working on Micky's drums. Peter had seen people pound on drums plenty of times, but that was to play it. But never having seen anyone pound on a drum with a hammer before, Peter was befuddled.

"What the hell are you guys doing?"

Mike looked up briefly, deadpan, and if you looked closely, you could catch Micky's smirk. "Pounding in some loose screws," was Mike's offhand remark.

"At six in the morning?" asked Peter incredulously.

"Has to be done sometime," was Micky's reply. To Peter, it looked like they were pounding on the floor more than the drums. The guys always slept in on Sunday, especially if they'd stayed up until 2:30 in the morning, so this behavior had Peter perplexed.

But back up the stairs he went, being naturally peace loving, and seeing no reason to argue about it.

"I can't go back to sleep with all that racket," said Davy.

"Neither can I. I have an idea though. Let's shower, get dressed for the beach, and go..."

Davy looked bewildered. "Why?"

"To get out of here! I have something planned."

"I'm a bit ashamed to face Mike and Micky right now," Davy was remembering all the noise they'd made last night. He chewed his lower lip. Suddenly, the drum pounding made sense.

"Peter, I think they're doing all that pounding... to make a point," he said.

Seeing that Peter was still too sleepy and oblivious to absorb what he was saying, Davy shrugged and they got into the shower together. It was a wonderful experience. Peter had never showered with anyone before, and Davy's soapy, slippery body was fantastically sensual sliding up against him. Davy had showered with girls occasionally, but it'd been nothing like this.

Before he could even think about it twice, Davy found himself on his knees again, sucking Peter_. Oh my god,_ thought Peter. _He's done it again! _ _Horny little devil. And I haven't even had a chance at him yet! _Well, later on Peter intended to remedy that situation but good.

When Peter came, his knees nearly buckled on him. He had to hang onto the shower head with all his might. Davy was greedy, acting as if Peter was his last meal. Peter just hoped he could keep his hands off Davy long enough to get them to the place he had in mind.

"I didn't suck you too hard, did I?" asked Davy with a decidedly concerned face afterward. "I  
was really hungry for you."

"Hell no," Peter's voice sounded gravelly as he tried to compose himself.

Davy wondered why Peter didn't at least give him a hand job, but he didn't question it. Peter was probably still too sleepy.

They passed the other two in the living room, Davy keeping his eyes averted, knowing his face was crimson. "See you guys later," said Peter cheerfully, and waving as they went out the front door. That gave Davy some satisfaction, because he knew it was giving Mike and Micky _no _satisfaction.

They hopped into the Monkeemobile, and not long after, Peter pulled into a grocery store parking lot.

"What're we doing 'ere?" asked Davy.

"Quit asking questions. Just come with me."

They ended up buying packaged hero sandwiches, chips, cookies and soft drinks. Back out to the Monkeemobile and back to the beach, but not anywhere near Beechwood Drive.

"Where're we going?" was Davy's next question.

"Shush. To a secluded spot where we can be all alone. It's romantic, quiet, and there's no banging going on downstairs."

Davy grimaced. "Not sure about the way you put that," he said. Peter grinned and punched him in the arm. "Stinker," he said.

It was indeed beautiful, romantic and quiet. Rock outcroppings abounded. Davy had driven past this area, but had never taken the time to stop to explore it. Peter and he walked to a specific area Peter had in mind, bags of food and a big beach towel in hand.

The area Peter chose was secluded on three sides by outcroppings about 10 feet tall. The fourth side was, of course, the ocean itself. There was a small open area in the sand, and that is where they laid out the beach towel.

"This is great, Pete."

"Thought you'd like it. I've been saving this place... for someone special," Peter went a bit pink and bashful.

"Obviously you've been here before... when?"

"When I needed to be alone. Like when a crisis in life would hit me. You know... girls, rejection, things like that."

"Well, as you saw at the party, your shyness is really the only thing... holding you back. But forget success with the girls... I want you all to myself." Davy could hardly believe he'd blurted that out, but Peter's face lighting up as it did made the embarrassment worth it.

"You'll get burned to a crisp."

Peter took some sunscreen out of his pocket. "I thought of everything," he said proudly as he began to apply it to himself. Davy offered to apply it to his back, and just the rubbing of the strange smelling cream into Peter's skin aroused Davy. It seemed everything about Peter aroused him. He found that the more he was this physically close to Peter, the more obsessed he was with him.

He studied Peter in the morning light. Peter's hair seemed to catch every sun ray available. It was still damp from their shower, but the sun and gentle breeze were quickly drying it, revealing the many colors.

"Your hair is the color of caramel in places," Davy said as he worked his fingers through it. Peter reminded him of a big cat, stretching out on the beach towel, welcoming Davy's hands in his hair. Davy could imagine him purring.

"David, come here," said Peter, reaching for him. "You're such a pretty boy," Peter said a little later, as they snuggled ever closer. "And I mean that in the best possible way." This time it was Davy who blushed. "Cheeky, but beautifully cheeky." Peter was proud of his developing mastery of English slang.

Davy ran his fingers along Peter's spine as they lay face to face, making Peter shudder.

Davy looked thoughtful. "You're a pretty boy too. You just don't know it. I don't want to harp on it though, because I don't want you getting cocky, you know?"

"Don't worry, my heart belongs to Jonesy," Peter's dimple deepened as he smiled. That's when Peter decided the moment was right. He pulled Davy to him with an enthusiasm that was nearly bubbling over. He was boiling hot for Davy. Wanting Davy this much was crushing his insides. He tilted his head and touched his lips to Davy's, and Davy instantly responded.

The kissing and making out with the waves gently breaking, the summer sun warm on their backs worked like a drug. Everything seemed in slow motion...

When Peter's hand dropped to Davy's jean shorts, Davy tilted his pelvis into it, throwing his head back at the same time. Peter enjoyed the view. Watching Davy getting such a charge out of it made Peter's heart swell, to match his cock. He gripped and stroked, but only briefly, as he wanted to draw this out a bit.

He scooted down and began to nibble and lick through Davy's clothes, just as Davy had done to him last night.

"Ah, you fancy torturing me?" Davy's voice sounded strained with lust. A loud moan erupted from his mouth unbidden.

"Yeah, just like you did to me last night."

"I told you payback's a bitch, Tork. And if you keep it up, you'll have _two_ coming."

Peter chuckled. He was trying to figure out this wild, unchecked need he had for Davy. He tried to rein himself in, but remembering how he'd urged Davy to _let go _before, he decided to follow his own advice. _So what if Davy excited him and girls didn't?_

Down came Davy's shorts, and his engorged cock sprung forward, eager for more of Peter's oral attention. Davy himself was past the point of eagerness. His breathing came fast, his heart catapulting the blood through his veins. He couldn't even see straight-everything was blurry.

Peter blew softly on it, then deep throated him so suddenly that Davy's entire body spasmed as if he were having a seizure. Peter's fingers rubbed and pulled gently on Davy's balls. So much sensation all at once almost put Davy over the top.

"Peter! Oh my god... Peter..."

Their breathing ragged, Peter worked on Davy's cock. Nice and deep. Davy allowed himself to get lost in the feeling.

Peter proceeded to give him the best blow job Davy had ever had in his life. He licked Davy's balls, massaged them, corkscrewed his mouth up and down the shaft, then began pistoning up and down in earnest. Then he stopped, waiting for Davy to protest before beginning anew. Davy felt Peter's teeth just slightly on the upstroke, and it was nearly his undoing. By the time Davy came, Peter had teased him by pulling away six or seven times. Davy's moans floated out over the ocean, mixing in with seagull's cries and the slap of waves on sand.

"Shoulda cold cocked you for teasing me like that," joked Davy afterward. Peter just hugged him more snugly in answer.

Finally, Peter murmured, "Let the world take a breather. It's just us."

"No misgivings?" asked Davy softly. Peter shook his head in the negative. Peter was not a complicated man. His love was pure and simple.

They both slept a bit, as they'd been up so late and gotten up so early this morning. They woke up ravenous, and proceeded to devour the sandwiches, chips, cookies and soda.

"Can I have a kiss?" asked Peter as they finished up.

"No."

"Why?"

"You have crumbs in your teeth. Cookie crumbs," added Davy, as if that needed explaining. Peter looked horrified. He got up as if to walk away, and Davy grabbed his ankle, causing him to fall flat in the sand.

"Come here, cookie breath."

They kissed for a long time, touched and explored each other's faces, and Davy ran his fingers through Peter's bangs to sweep them out of his eyes. "How do you see to play the bass?" Davy was curious.

Peter shrugged. "Just one of my many talents, I guess," Peter grinned. "Being able to see through hair."

They made love again, both still eager for the other. Afterward, Davy looked at Peter, and his eyes were serious. "We're gonna have to tell Mike and Micky. Even though there's no way they don't already know."

"I know. When?"

"As soon as possible. Look... the sun'll be going down soon," remarked Davy. "And you know... I've been wanting to tell you this...To me, you define the sun. You're all warmth and golden hair. Its really nice to be with you."

Peter smiled, never having had Davy speak to him in this way before. Davy looked out at the sea momentarily, and when he turned back to Peter, those brown eyes of his were sparkling.

The tide was beginning to toy with the idea of coming in as they gathered up the blanket and the empty food bags. "Can we tell Mike and Micky when we get home?"

"I reckon we _need_ to," was Davy's reply.

"Okay, I'll race you to the Monkeemobile!" They sprinted through the sand, laughing and then Davy reached out and took Peter's hand, they slowed to a walk, and the race was forgotten.


End file.
